These few unimportant facts clearly established, Gallatin gave himself up more carefully to the business in hand, and by the time he reached the head of the gorge, had caught an even dozen. If fish were to serve them for diet, they would not go hungry on this day at least. As he went higher up into the hills he kept his eyes open for the landmarks of yesterday. He remembered the two big rocks in the gorge, and it surprised him that they were no nearer to his camp. The task of finding his back trail to Joe Keegón would be more difficult than he had supposed, and he knew now that the point where he had first fished this stream was many miles above. But he saw no reason to be unduly alarmed. He had served his apprenticeship; and with an axe and a frying pan, a kettle, some flour, tea, and a tin cup or two, his position would have had no terrors.
Beyond the gorge he had a shot at a deer and the echoes derided him, for he missed it. He shot again at smaller things and had the luck to bring down two squirrels; then realizing that his cartridges were precious, made his way back to camp.
The girl was already at the fire, her crutch beside her against the fallen log.
“I thought you were never coming.” She smiled. “I heard your shooting and it frightened me.”
Gallatin held the squirrels out for her inspection.
“There!” he said.
“Poor little things, what a pity! They were all so happy up there this morning.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be helped. We must eat, you know. Did you have any luck?”
She opened her creel and showed him.
Again she had caught more than he.
He laughed delightedly. “From this moment you are appointed Fish-wife Extraordinary. I fish no more. When my cartridges are used I’ll have nothing to do but sit by the fire.”
“Did you find your trail?” she asked anxiously.
“I followed it for a mile or so. I’m afraid I’ll have to start early to-morrow. I want to see you comfortable first.”
His manner was practical, but she did not fail to catch the note of uncertainty in his voice. She bent her gaze on the ground, and spoke slowly.
“You’re very kind to try to keep me in ignorance, but I think I understand now. We will be here a long time.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think that,” cheerfully. “If I were more experienced, I would promise to find my own guide to-morrow. I’m going to do the best I can. I won’t come back here until I have to acknowledge myself beaten. Meanwhile, many things may happen. Your people will surely–”
“We are lost, both of us—hopelessly,” she persisted. “The fish strike here as though these streams had never been fished before. My people will find me, if they can; if they can’t—I—I—must make the best of my position.”
She spoke bravely, but there was a catch in her voice that he had heard before.
“I’ll do the best I can. I want you to believe that. Three or four days at the most and I’m sure I can promise you–”
“I’d rather you wouldn’t promise,” she said. “We’ll get out someway, of course, and if it wasn’t for this provoking foot–”
“Isn’t it better?”
“Oh, yes—better. But, of course, I can’t bear my weight on it. It’s so tiresome.”
She seemed on the point of tears, and while he was trying to think of something to say to console her, she reached for her crutch and bravely rose.
“I’m not going to cry. I abominate whining women. Give me something to do, and I won’t trouble you with tears.”
“You’re plucky, that’s certain,” he said admiringly. “The lunch must be cooked. We’ll save the squirrels for supper. I’m going to work on your house. I’m afraid there’s no tea—no real tea, but we might try arbor-vitæ. They say its palatable.”
She insisted on cleaning the fish and preparing the meal while he sat beside her and began sewing two rolls of thick birch-bark together with white spruce-roots. Between whiles she watched him with interest.
“I never heard of sewing a roof before,” she said with a smile.
“It’s either sewing the roof or reaping the whirlwind,” he laughed. “It may not rain before we get out of here, but I think it’s best not to take any chances. The woods are not friendly when they’re wet. Besides, I’d rather not have any doctor’s bills.”
“That’s not likely here,” she laughed. “And the lunch is ready,” she announced.
All that afternoon he worked upon her shelter and by sunset it was weather-tight. On three sides and top it was covered with birches, and over the opening toward the fire was a projecting eave which could be lowered over one side as a protection from the wind. When he had finished it he stood at one side and examined his handiwork with an approving eye.
She had already thanked him many times.
“Of course, I don’t know how to show my gratitude,” she said again.
“Then don’t try.”
“But you can’t sleep out again.”
“Oh, yes, I can. I’m going to anyway.”
“You mustn’t.”
He glanced up at her quizzically.
“Why not?”
“I want to take my share.”
“I’m afraid you can’t. That house is yours. You’re going to sleep there. I’m afraid you’ll have to obey orders,” he finished. “You see, I’m bigger than you are.”
Her eyes measured his long limbs and her lips curved in a crooked little smile.
“I don’t like to obey orders.”
“I’m afraid you must.”
“You haven’t any right to make yourself uncomfortable.”
“Oh, yes, I have,” he said. “Might is right—in the woods.”
Something in the way he spoke caused her to examine his face minutely, but his eyes were laughing at her.
“Oh!” she said meekly.
V
WOMAN AND MAN
There were no voices in the woods that night, or if there were any the girl in the lean-to did not hear them. The sun had already found its way past the protecting flap of her shack before she awoke. The first thing she discovered was that at some time during the night he had put his coat over her again. She held it for a moment in her fingers thinking, before she rose; then got up quickly and peered out. The morning was chill, but the fire showed signs of recent attention and on the saucepan which had been placed near the fire a piece of birch-bark was lying. She picked it up curiously to read a hastily pencilled scrawl:
“I’m off up country. I must go far, so don’t be frightened if I’m not back for supper. Be careful with your foot—and keep the fire going. There are fish and firewood enough to last. Nothing can harm you. With luck I’ll bring my guide and duffel-bag.”
She glanced quickly over her shoulder into the depths of the pine-woods in the direction he must have taken as though she hoped to see him walking there; then, the birch-bark still in her hands, sat down on the log, read the message over again, smiling. She had begun to understand this tall young man, with the grim, unshaven face and somber, peering eyes. Those eyes had frightened her at first; and even now the memory of them haunted her until she recalled just what they did when he smiled, and then remembered that she was not to be frightened any more.
He had been gone for several hours. She knew this by the condition of the fire, but wondered why he had not spoken more definitely about his plans the night before. Possibly he had been afraid that she would not have slept.