Thoroughly awakened by this little exchange of civilities, Bud started
a fire in the stove and made coffee for Cash, who drank half a cup quite
meekly. He still had that tearing cough, and his voice was no more than
a croak; but he seemed no worse than he had been the night before. So on
the whole Bud considered the case encouraging, and ate his breakfast an
hour or so earlier than usual. Then he went out and chopped wood until
he heard Lovin Child chirping inside the cabin like a bug-hunting meadow
lark, when he had to hurry in before Lovin Child crawled off the bunk
and got into some mischief.
For a man who was wintering in what is called enforced idleness in a
snow-bound cabin in the mountains, Bud Moore did not find the next few
days hanging heavily on his hands. Far from it.