"How d'ye expect to git a board an' men out here?" Tom queried.
"Sure. I never thought of that," Dad sadly replied.
"Don't tease Mr. Seddon," Nance laughed. "Would you like to have a game with me?" and she turned to the man at her side as she spoke.
"What! Can you play, Miss?" There was a pathetic eagerness in Dad's eyes as he riveted them upon the young woman's face.
In reply Nance rose, and going to a shelf brought down a chess-board and a small box containing the various pieces. Dad was delighted as he took the latter in his hands and examined them with a critical eye.
"Did you make these?" he asked, turning to Martin.
"Yes," was the reply, "and many a fine game we've had with them during the long winter evenings, though we haven't played much of late."
Nance had now drawn up a small table, and soon she and Dad were deeply engaged in the royal game. Tom watched them with much satisfaction, and gave vent to several chuckles of delight when he found that Nance was a match for the trapper.
"Ha, that was a fine move!" he exclaimed, while Nance laughed with glee as Dad scratched his head and endeavoured to extricate himself from the clever trap into which his fair opponent had led him. "I'm glad that Dad has met his equal at last," Tom continued, "fer he always beat me without mercy. The first time I ever saw chess played," and he now addressed his remarks to Martin, "was away back in Eastern Canada. Old Parson Dowden, who was rector fer forty years of Glendale, the parish in which I was born, didn't have an equal at the game as fer as I know. Why, he'd go without his meals any time to play chess."
At these words, and especially at the mention of "Dowden" and "Glendale," Martin gave a distinct start, took the pipe from his mouth and looked keenly at Tom. But the latter seemed as though he did not notice Martin's surprise. He bent over, lighted a splinter of wood at the fire, and applied it to his pipe.