He leaned and cocked his head to one aide to see more--but at that moment he heard Bud stamping off the snow from his feet on the doorstep, and he took two long, noiseless strides to the dish cupboard and was fumbling there with his back to the bunk when Bud came tiptoeing in.
Bud started a fire in the fireplace and heaped the dry limbs high.

Cash fried his bacon, made his tea, and set the table for his midday meal.
Bud waited for the baby to wake, looking at his watch every minute or two, and making frequent cautious trips to the bunk, peeking and peering to see if the child was all right.

It seemed unnatural that it should sleep so long in the daytime.

No telling what that squaw had done to it; she might have doped it or something.

He thought the kid's face looked red, as if it had fever, and he reached down and touched anxiously the hand that was uncovered.