I will have the wagon driver over to the hospital presently, with the remainder of the flour, and you can go along." All the old love seemed to have been out at compound interest, from the increment that came back to her at the sound of Harry Glen's voice, now so much deeper, fuller and more masterful than in the fastidious days of yore.

She lifted the smallest corner of the wagon-cover and looked out.
The barrel heads had been beaten in with stones, and a large cupful of flour issued to each of the hungry men.

They had mixed it up into dough with water from the ditch, and were baking it before the fire on large flat stones, which abounded in the vicinity.
"I'll mix up enough for all three of us on this board," she heard Harry say to Abe and Kent.

"With your game arm, Kent, and Abe's battered eyes, your cooking skill's about gone.

You ought to both of you go to the hospital.