She really thought he was joking, however, until she had looked into two or three of the huts. People really did live in them, as she saw. In the middle of the plank floors was a well, with open water kept clear of frost. The set-lines were fastened to pegs in the planks and the “flags” announced when a fish was on the hook.
A smiling woman, done up like an Eskimo, invited them into one shack. She had evidently not seen the scooter arrive from down the lake and thought the boy and girl had walked out from Coxford.
“Hello!” she said. “Goin’ to try your hands at fishin’? You’re town folks, ain’t you?”
“Yes,” said Agnes, politely. “We come from Milton.”
“Lawsy! That’s a fur ways,” said the woman. She was peeling potatoes, and a kettle was boiling on the stove at one side. The visitors knew by the odor that there was corned beef in the pot. “You goin’ to try your hands?” the woman repeated.
“No,” said Neale. “We are with a party that is going up to Red Deer Lodge.”
“Oh! That’s the Birdsall place. You can’t git up there tonight. It’s too fur.”
“I guess we shall stay in Coxford,” admitted Neale.
“Didn’t know but you an’ your sister wanted to fish. Old Manny Cox got ketched with rheumatics so that he had to give up fishin’ this season. I can hire you his shanty.”
“No, thank you!” murmured Agnes, her eyes round with interest.