Truly a fire makes home of a wilderness. We sat with our heels to the
blaze, and grew jovial. The Englishman said little, but was alert to
serve us.

"It is salt to the broth to have it given me by a pretty squaw," I told
him as he filled my bowl a second time.

He flushed with anger, and I thought myself that it was a cheap jest
and unworthy. He had been considerate to wear his disguise without
complaint.

"I shall find something for you to wear when we shift our cargo to
leave," I promised him, and since my mood was still mellow, I looked
him over with a smile. He had smoothed and rounded in a wonderful
manner in his two days of rest, and I was pleased by the red in his
cheeks. "You will soon be a second Pierre if you sleep and eat in this
fashion," I laughed at him, "and then there will be no room for you in
the canoe. If all your countrymen sleep as you do, it is small wonder
that they have left us undisturbed in the beaver lands."

He smiled a little in deference to my small jest, but the next instant
he looked away. "I had not slept in weeks," he said softly, as if
ashamed of his excuse.

That shamed me, and I came to my feet and let my bowl of broth spill
where it would.

"Sleep well, lad. You are safe with us," I cried, and I left my meal
unfinished, and went to the hidden cargo. Then and there I would find