Effie Scannell's wedding very near, and a dull reserve had grown on him.
"Thought the place was on fire," he said, pulling the door to against the wind.
Ormond turned from the tins where he had been tasting the difference between Navy-cut and tea.
"Just been getting a surprise party ready for you, Randal. Tea, eh? The billy is boil- ing its head off."
"No, thanks." Randal slung his kit in a corner and rubbed his hands over his fore- head. "What is it, Ormond?"
' "I — have brought them. You — ^you're going to stand up to it all right, Randal? Yes — ^in the bunk."
Randal lifted the little shapeless packet.
- 'This?"
"Yes." Ormond laid a hand on the other man's arm. "Old fellow — ^have something to eat first. You're clean played out."
Randal took his knife, and slashed through the tightly boxmd string with fierce upward cuts. Ormond understood that the trouble was for now, and he moved into the shadow with his head among the cross-ties.
"But you don't need a knife, Randal," he muttered. "Granny knots, I'll bet my shirt! When did a girl ever tie anything else?"
Randal's fingers were stiff. The sUm shovel handle cramped more than the reins of the past
