A few minutes after an Indian woman, dressed partly in English fashion, came in with a kettle of tea and some cake and bacon, which she smilingly placed ready for us, while Quong stood over by the fire looking very serious and troubled.
Gunson smiled and gave me a cheery look, and we sat down to the early meal; but I did not feel hungry, and was playing with my breakfast when Mr Raydon came in, looking quiet and firm as he wished us good morning.
“Quite ready for your start then?” he said; “quite decided to go to-day?”
“Quite,” replied Gunson, shortly. “If you come back this way I shall be glad to see you,” continued our host.
“Thank you. I hope to come back safely some day, and,” he said, turning to me, “to see how you are getting on.”
“I shall be very glad to see you again,” I said warmly; for though I did not feel that I exactly liked the prospector, there was something beside gratitude which attracted me to him.
“The Chinaman goes with you, I suppose?” said Mr Raydon, glancing to where Quong stood, looking troubled and uneasy at being superseded.
“I don’t know. He is free, and not tied to me in any way.”
“What are you going to do?” said Mr Raydon, turning sharply on the little fellow.
“Light n’—make blead—plenty tea hot—stlong. Cookee, velly much cookee. Speak ploper English, allee same Melican man.”