two black eyes beneath a shock of black hair were smiling a welcome.

"Good morning," I greeted. "May I use your stove to cook breakfast?"

"No, sir," replied the figure, then it sat up in bed, and I saw that it
was a white man. "I'll do the cooking myself, for you're to be my
guest."

"Thanks," I returned, "I'm travelling with an Indian and I don't wish
to trouble you; but if I may use your stove I'll be much obliged."

"If I have what you haven't got," my host smiled, "will you dine with
me?"

"All right," I agreed.

"Potatoes," he exclaimed.

"Good," I laughed.

"Then sit down, please, and rest while I do the cooking."

Oo-koo-hoo now came in and at the host's bidding, filled his pipe from
a tobacco pouch upon the table.

The accent of the stranger suggested that he was an English gentleman,
and it seemed strange, indeed, to discover so refined and educated a
man living apparently alone and without any special occupation in the
very heart of the Great Northern Forest. Curiosity seized me. Then I
wondered--was this the man? . . . could he be "Son-in-law"?