"Ah! Good work. Beans, Jones? Sure." Rob ladled out huge platefuls for Harry and Jones, swung the saucepan from the stove to the table, helped himself generously, and then calmly set the saucepan down on his clean napkin. "Now, a little condensed milk for the coffee," he said, "then hoist anchor and away."
"I'll have to open a fresh can," Harry said, jumping up. "I threw out the other."
As she went to get it, she failed to see her brother's eyebrows lift in surprise. He said nothing, however, and devoured his dinner hungrily.
"Sis couldn't even turn a flapjack when she first came out," he said to Jones as between them they demolished beans and biscuits. "Never mind, sis, you've earned your salt teaching, and if you keep on like this you'll soon be worth your salt to me."
He winked teasingly, cheerfully unconscious of the fact that Harry's cheeks were flaming with annoyance. Just when Rob should have been nicest, before a stranger, he was particularly horrid!
In a very cold and dignified manner she disclaimed credit for the pie and biscuits, but Rob was so busy eating that he did not notice the reproof in her voice. As soon as dinner was over he got up, reached for his hat, and said, "Come on, Jones, let's go up to the glen."
They stepped outside the tent. Harry heard Rob say in a low voice, "I've been looking for you this long while. Have any trouble getting through?"
"Not much. I didn't give any one a chance to ask questions."
She heard no more and was soon thinking about other things—chiefly about how Rob had changed since coming West. She washed the dishes, straightened up the tent, and was just hanging up her apron, when she heard the men coming back, still talking earnestly.
"It's the only way," Rob was saying. "You can't be sure that these fellows will not find out; and if you can say that—see?"