"Hope so," said the girl. She could not say she believed so--yet.
The camp was a success in that it was very sheltered and cosy, but the funniest thing happened to start with almost. The kit was unpacked for cooking and easier conveyance in the morning. Nell put the neat bundles of pelts in place for pillows--rather a good idea. The two had made a good meal of bacon, beans, and tea, and were sitting very quietly in the warmth of the fire changing their foot-gear and greasing their weary feet. It was a moment of peace. Robin raised his head and growled faintly in his throat. He was lying on his side, all four feet stretched to the fire and head close to Nell. She laid her hand on his ears, and then looked where his frowning eyes were gazing--something was pushing through the brushwood towards the camp circle.
In a moment it appeared, and with it came a curious dry, rattling sound.
It strolled along grubbing a busy snout under dead leaves and rubbish, a hedgehog--quite the most independent of all the forest creatures, because no other animal will attempt to interfere with it or risk being shot by one of the deadly spines of its queer armoured coat. Even a lynx makes a wide circuit round a hedgehog, because if he's angry and ejects a quill--or spine--and that sticks, nothing the wounded beast can do will get it out. The spine goes on working itself in and in, and often causes blood poisoning, apart from the horrible pain.
Master Hedgehog trotted into the circle of light entirely unashamed, having no reason to fear any person. He was attracted, because the snow was scraped away and a chance offered of finding amongst the stuff underneath a few grubs or beetles as food in these hungry days. He routed about with his odd little pig-like snout, taking no more notice of the campers than he would have done of a bear, a wolf, or a skunk. No one could touch him. Nell laid a restraining hand on Robin, who was watching intently, but there was no need, the black dog knew all about hedgehogs.
Presently this very self-contained visitor trotted away into the brushwood, rustling his spines as he went. David laughed and said it was a pity not to have shot the little pig.
"We could have baked him in the ashes, Nell," he added regretfully.
"We mustn't fire shots unless we are forced," she answered, "that would never do. Do you remember the story Dad told us about that fox that tried all ways to get a hedgehog in snow time and couldn't? So he burrowed a tunnel in the snow and came up under the hedgehog and bit it underneath. Horribly clever, foxes are. I rather love them, don't you, Da? They are so clever."
Everything seemed to promise a peaceful night. The two got into their fur bags in peace and quiet. The night was still, there was no sound but the slipping of snow from branches, as the weight shifted a little in the thaw.
And then Nell found she could not sleep. She had that kind of busy mind that seems straining after sounds. The fact was she was anxious, though she would not allow it. Her mind was craving to get on, and on. She would have liked to travel all night as well as all day, but had to keep up a sort of pretence of ease and security for fear of worrying David too much. He would have taken it to heart, and the strain would have been too great, joined to the hard day's pulling.