"My, what with the smell of these here spruce boughs and that 'ere pork, it makes a hunter's mouth jest water!" declared Hank, sitting down to watch Joe, and smoking the pipe which he loved so much. "See here, youngster, while you're gettin' supper ready I'll collect a few more logs. There's never any sayin' what sort of weather we may have, and ef we was short of firin' we'd have to eat cold grub, which ain't over fanciful, I kin tell you."
By the time he was back in the camp Joe had a number of pieces of pork cooked, and was fain to admit himself that the smell of cooking them was most appetizing. Then, as the shades of night drew in, he and Hank—as strangely an assorted couple as one could well come upon—sat down in the entrance of their humble shack and, wrapping blankets about their shoulders, ate their supper, enjoying every mouthful of it as others cannot do, even your gourmet set before the most recherché meal that was ever invented; for an active open-air life gives zest to everything. Your traveller does not complain of the toughness of his steak or of the weakness of his tea. He is thankful for all that is set before him, and with appetite sharpened by exercise, and tastes unspoiled and unpampered by a multiplicity of viands and etceteras, eats heartily, thankful that there is food to be had, mindful perhaps of other times when he went hungry.
"Wind's turned," stated Hank, as he rose after supper. "It's got away round, and we're in for a north-easter. That mostly brings snow, so I shouldn't wonder ef we was buried nigh the mornin'. That means snowshoes, and it aer a lucky thing that I brought all the fixings. There's many as buys their snowshoes. I ain't one of them. Ever sense I was as high as a table I've made 'em myself. Throw on another log, Joe, and let's get snug down inside. And jest for a moment have a look at our shack. You can see that I've faced it so that the opening looks west and south. Ef there's snow from the north-east it won't enter so easy, though, in course, there'll be eddies in here amongst the trees, and some of it'll be blowed in."
Tossing branches on the fire, Joe soon joined his comrade, when the two wrapped their blankets round them and were quickly asleep; but at midnight they were awakened by noise without, and crept to the exit of their shack.
"Blowin' moderate," said Hank, "and my, ain't it snowin'! Lucky there's a moon. It makes it look as ef the weather wouldn't be outrageous."
Joe was enchanted when he looked out into the forest. It was his first real taste of a Canadian winter; for here, besides the cold blast which whistled amongst the trees, there was snow. Flakes eddied and twirled everywhere. They came sidling down upon the shack as if afraid to disturb the campers. They had already formed a white carpet over the ground, while many a branch was groaning beneath the added weight. Under the rays of a pale, wintry moon the scene was simply enchanting.
"Beautiful!" declared our hero. "And just fancy being in camp at such a time! It would make them all sit up and have fits away back in Old England."
"It'd make men of some of them that needs changin'," grunted Hank. "You jest wait a tidy bit. This ain't nothing to what we'll get before we've done with the winter. But let's creep back agin'. It ain't too warm outside, and reckon the inside of that 'ere shack aer as comfortable as a feather bed under the roof of a palace."
It was, in fact. Joe's head hardly touched the heaped pillow of twigs when he fell asleep, and slumbered on, oblivious of the increasing sounds without and of the silent snowflakes settling overhead.