In the North it is obligatory to be hospitable, and the boys prepared to feed and entertain the party as if they were the most welcome guests. At the usual time they prepared supper. The four newcomers ate enormously. During the meal the red-bearded man explained that his name was Mitchell, that he was "going north with these breeds," as he rather vaguely put it, and that they had run somewhat short of provisions.
Luckily, they had food for the dogs; one of the "breeds" presently produced six frozen whitefish and carried them outside, where he gave one to each dog with much dexterity. The fish were bolted in a twinkling, and the unhappy brutes began to look for a sheltered spot where they could sleep through the sub-Arctic night.
After supper the French, stuffed to repletion, lay back and engaged in an animated conversation in a dialect that seemed to be a mixture of French, English, and Ojibwa. They laughed uproariously, and seemed thoroughly happy. But Mitchell said little, and continually examined the interior of the hut with keen, restless eyes.
The next morning the visitors showed no anxiety to be off. They fed the dogs, lounged about, smoked, and stayed until dinner time. After dinner Mitchell announced that the dogs were tired, and would have to rest that day.
It is very unusual to take a day off the trail for the sake of the dogs, but the boys made no objection, although secretly much annoyed. The presence of the strangers inspired them all with uneasiness. Besides, they could not continue their search or speak freely of it.
The next morning the strangers said nothing about moving on. They sat about the fire, and evading a suggestion that they help to cut wood, played cards nearly all day.
"What's the matter with them? Are they going to stay here all winter?" said Fred, in great irritation.
Certainly the dogs needed no more rest. They pervaded the place, trying to bolt into the warm cabin whenever the door was opened, and spending much time in leaping vainly but hopefully at the frozen carcass of the deer, swung high on a bough in the open air.
The prodigious appetites of the newcomers had not diminished in the least, and the carcass was rapidly growing less. The boys thought that at the least their guests might help replenish the larder, and the next morning Macgregor proposed that they all go after deer.
"No good to-day," said Mitchell gruffly. "Snow's coming. You boys go if you want to. We'll mind camp."