"Ah, that's the kind of French I can understand," said Pud, as he moved over towards the fire.
"Now be prepared to shout," said Mr. Anderson. "Here's some real trout caught within the hour and cooked as only Joe can cook them."
He gave each of the boys a whole trout out of the frying pan and this, with bread, butter, prunes and coffee, was their supper. The trout was hot and all three boys stated that they had never tasted anything better in their lives. They all meant it too. At their praise, Joe's face lighted up, for he was proud of his cooking. They formed a real woodsman picture as they sat or squatted around the fire eating their supper without the use of plates or a table. The picture was rather out of harmony, for the Indian and the Frenchman were the typical woodsmen, the two older men hardened fishermen, but even the merest novice could see that the three boys were unused to the woods and their present surroundings.
But, in any case, the scene was not lost on the boys. The bright light cast by the fire on the faces of the men and the dark shadows of the woods formed a contrast that was fascinating to the boys. They could not keep their eyes off Pierre with his silent but speedy movements, and his impassive face, nor from Joe, who formed such a contrast with his animation and gestures, his good-natured talk and his smile. Mr. Waterman and Mr. Anderson sat to the side talking in low tones, and the boys felt that these were two men worthy of their confidence. They looked as though they would be ready for any emergency that might arise. They were startled by a splash in the river. Pierre seemed to vanish as if by magic into the trees on the side towards the river. Though he went with great speed, the boys listened in vain to hear him tearing through the bushes. All ears were tensed but not a sound was heard.
"Pierre will let us know what it is," said Mr. Waterman in a matter-of-fact tone, as he motioned the boys to sit down again. "Don't worry, there's nothing up here to do us much harm. Even the bears run from us and it's necessary to hunt them carefully if you want to see one, though we see traces of them every day."
As they were talking, Pierre came back almost as quickly and silently as he had gone. He sat down by the fire and said about three words to Mr. Waterman and relapsed into silence again.
"'Big fish,' he says," translated Mr. Waterman.
"It sounded like a deer to me," said Mr. Anderson.
"We'll look for tracks in the morning before we leave," said Mr. Waterman.
He then turned to Pierre and talked to him in French.