110 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
food. But this was not enough for Wallace, who 
drew up on a sheet of note paper a slender menu 
and presented it to Horace for the latter’s guidance. 
Our bill of fare was scarcely confusing in its variety, 
so that about all Wallace did was to limit the amount 
of Wetherby’s nourishment for each meal. Nor did 
he err on the side of lavishness. 
Horace took the schedule and read it with care. 
His face lengthened perceptibly. 
‘¢ Oh, gracious!. A man can’t live on that, Wal- 
lace,’’? he expostulated. ‘‘I simply can’t consider 
it, it’s absurd !’’ 
The Forest Assistant, an equable and mild youth, 
if ever there was one, the last to criticise or condemn, 
lost patience entirely with his tent-mate. 
‘*You make me tired, Wetherby!’’ he exclaimed. 
‘“‘We’re giving you a last chance, at your own re- 
quest, and at the slightest hint of discipline you act 
as if you were being martyred. If you don’t want 
to follow instructions I’m through with you, that’s 
ail”? 
_... This speech from Wallace, whom Wetherby had 
grown to consider the one man in camp who did not 
misunderstand him, was a crusher. It seemed to 
really get to Horace, whose armour of egotism had 
been heretofore proof against adverse criticism. 
He walked slowly to his tent, silent, but with the 
schedule clutched dutifully in his hand. 
Thereafter he followed the diet grudgingly but 
faithfully, and at times it was almost painful to wit- 
