"We hain't got nothin' to dig with," whined a man, "an' the snow's hard."
"You're hard, too," reminded Connie. "Use your hands."
"We'll give ourself in charge," broke in another. "Now, ye've got to feed us an' ye dasen't freeze us or make us work neither! Come out here an' put us in irons like a man!"
Connie laughed. "I don't want you. I haven't got any orders to arrest anybody. But if I was four hard guys, and hungry as you fellows look, I'd dig that sled out. 'Cause you don't eat till it's in front of the door. And that goes!"
After some wrangling among themselves the men advanced to the corner of the cabin and as Connie put the kettle of fish to boil he heard the low growl of their voices as they worked. Fifteen minutes later the sled, a heavy, roughly constructed affair, was before the door and once more the men were clamouring for food. Connie inspected the job through the loophole.
"All right!" he approved. "Now hike and I'll bring your grub out."
"We want to come in where it's warm!" whimpered one.
