Don was warming up.
“You interest us greatly—please go on.”
Donald’s leathery face creased itself into numerous wrinkles as he smiled.
“There ain’t much to tell, I guess. I’ve known Mr. John ever since he was a boy of ten or twelve, and a finer youngster never lived. His father, old Dan Morton, used to come every summer to the Upper Lakes for the fishin’, and when the boy got old enough to travel he took him along. In those days, I used to work as a guide in summer and fall and did loggin’ in winter and spring. After the great catch of 1874, the old gentleman had me for guide regularly; and when young John started to come up alone, I always rowed and cooked for him.”
Don paused for a moment; mechanically, his hand slipped into a side pocket of his coat to reappear with a pipe in it. He glanced at it, then recollecting himself, he quickly put it back. The Princess smiled: “Please, Mr. McCormick, don’t deprive yourself. Light your pipe.”
Don looked queerly dubious and hesitated. “You are very kind, but I’m afraid my tobacco ain’t a cigar.” The girls laughed and assured him they would enjoy the aroma. Don nodded and lit up; but as he puffed he was careful to blow the smoke so that the wind would carry it away from where the girls were sitting. These girls were all right, he said to himself—nice and pretty and considerate. He began to feel quite at home with them. Puffing serenely he took up his narrative with added zest.
“Mr. John wasn’t very strong as a youngster; he had some fever when a baby that left him kind o’ delicate. But he was fearless, quick and mighty steady. After a couple o’ years he started to pick up—and now—there ain’t a logger in Minnesoty that can beat him in rowing or wrestling or at huntin’. I took to him from the start, and I love him as I would if he were my own son. The Lord don’t make ’em any better than John Morton—let me tell ye!”
“It is fine of you to say so, Mr. McCormick,” said Helène; “and I’ve no doubt Mr. Morton thinks very highly of you, too.”
“I guess he does. He took me to the city, gave me all kinds of chances; but somehow or other I never could cotton to straight town life. Always wanted to go back to the woods and the water—I am satisfied to end my days there.”
A pause for a few more puffs.