“Then they were together?” she asked.
“Yes,” replied Peeler. “I suppose the teacher was seein’ him through part of the bush. I was talkin’ to Blake, the sawyer, over at the mill a while ago, and he tells me Colonel Hallibut has hired Smythe and Watson to help get our timberland.”
“Where’bouts on the trail did you meet ’em?” asked Declute.
“Why, they had only got nicely started, I guess. It wasn’t more than two or three miles out at most.”
“Where has Watson been all day, I wonder?” cried Gloss. “He was at our place shortly after sun-up.”
From the next room came a commotion, and three round-eyed youngsters, between the ages of three and six, protruded their heads from beneath the buckskin door-curtain.
“Get back in thar, Moses and Zaccheus,” commanded the mother; “you ain’t had half enough sleep yet.”
“Oh, let me hug them, Mrs. Declute,” pleaded Gloss.
She ran across and gathered the babies up, all together, in her arms. They twined their chubby arms about her neck and rubbed their sleepy eyes against her face. They were sweet, wholesome youngsters, and the girl loved them. She kissed them all, three times around, then set them down.
“Guess we’d better be goin’, Ander,” she said, “that is, if you have to come. But I’m not the least timid about goin’ alone.”