they breasted the wind which swept across the little clearing, and they
looked like a bunch of school boys as they plunged through the snow to
the shelter of the trees beyond.

As Jean stood and watched them through a tiny spot in the little window
which the banked-up snow had not covered, her heart thrilled with
pride. They were but humble men, she knew, yet glad and ready to
maintain their Sovereign's cause in the heart of the great northern
wilds. She thought of what Norman had said about King George, and a
smile flitted across her face. But what did his words amount to before
the stern reality of such staunch champions as these obscure
mast-cutters? Men might curse and rave, but how futile they were
against the spirit of loyalty implanted in the hearts of determined,
rugged men.

In the meantime, the cook, the one man of the mast-cutting gang who was
left behind because of his age, had prepared food and tea for the new
arrivals. Dane and Jean were hungry, and thoroughly enjoyed the rough,
though well-cooked meat and bread. "Old Dennis," as he was called,
waited upon the visitors with considerable pleasure. His eyes twinkled
with merriment as he noted the happiness of the young couple.

"This is the fust time a female woman has ever been in this shanty," he
told them. "I never expected to see the day when I'd be feedin' one
with me own hands, an' sich a handsome lass, at that. A storm ginrally
brings something I've noticed. It was allus raining or snowin', or
blowin' when a baby came to our house, an' I had to go to the
neighbours fer help."

"How many children have you?" Jean asked with a smile.