The two smoked on for many minutes without indulging in conversation. The camper quoted snatches from Service and Kipling, then he came back to Knibbs, who was evidently his favorite. Billy listened and thought.
"Goin' anywheres in particular?" he asked during a momentary lull in the recitation.
"Oh, south or west," replied the other. "Nowhere in particular--any place suits me just so it isn't north or east."
"That's me," said Billy.
"Let's travel double, then," said the poetical one. "My name's Bridge."
"And mine's Billy. Here, shake," and Byrne extended his hand.
"Until one of us gets wearied of the other's company," said Bridge.
"You're on," replied Billy. "Let's turn in."
"Good," exclaimed Bridge. "I wonder what's keeping James. He should have been here long since to turn down my bed and fix my bath."
Billy grinned and rolled over on his side, his head uphill and his feet toward the fire. A couple of feet away Bridge paralleled him, and in five minutes both were breathing deeply in healthy slumber.