“But where do they go in the summer?” asked John.
“Probably to some of their own villages. It’s almost too late now to trap foxes for their furs, so the chances are there will be no one here until next winter.”
“Why, then,” said Jesse, his eyes brightening, “we could use this for our house, couldn’t we?”
“Precisely,” said Rob. “That’s just what we will do.”
“That’ll be fine,” said John, his eyes brighter than they had been for many an hour. “Now if we only had something for a good meal.”
“Here’s an old tin lard-pail they no doubt used for a water-pail,” said Rob, kicking about in the heavy covering of grass which lay on the floor. “Now, I tell you, I’ll go get some water; you clean the hut, Jess; and, John, you go to the boat and bring over the box of crackers and tomatoes.”
With light hearts the others complied, each glad that now at least they were free from the dangers of the sea.
“I believe we’re going to be all right here, John,” said Jesse, as the latter started toward the boat.
“Surely we will,” said John. “Only I know I want a drink pretty badly.”
When they met at the door of the hut a few moments later Rob offered them his kettle of water, from which he had not yet drunk. John took a deep draught and spat it out with a wry face.