"None whatever. Make yourselves at home," answered Green heartily.
"Any water hereabouts?" asked the man.
"There's a spring just round those trees, about ten yards off."
"Hurrah! Fetch some, Jem. We'll make coffee. You and the lad will join us, stranger?"
"That's so," replied Green, "and thank you."
In a quarter of an hour the five huntsmen, Cyril, and Green were partaking of a good breakfast, consisting of coffee, tinned meat, and bread.
Cyril learnt from the men's talk that they had been hunting all night and had shot two reindeer, which some of their party had taken home, whilst the others pressed on in search of more. The light of the lanterns fastened to their horses' heads attracted the deer, who, on coming forward to look at it, were shot point-blank by the men.
The boy thought it a very cruel way of entrapping the beautiful creatures, but all the others said it was "fine sport."
Presently the men, who had lingered too long over their breakfast, jumped up, and mounting their horses rode as fast as they could back towards the mill. Very little was said upon the way. One of the men took Cyril up behind him, and he found it difficult enough to hold on to the saddle he bestrode. He had no strength left for talking.
By-and-by they arrived at their destination—a group of houses and outbuildings, and a huge saw-mill, with heaps of timber and roughly-hewn planks.