"Oh, I kin stand it, miss, although I do feel somewhat holler. Mebbe that Injun woman out thar in the yard will be able to throw some stuff together."
"No, I intend to do it myself," Madeline calmly replied. "You call for Nancy. She can show me where the provisions are kept, and will be able to give me a hand. I shall feel better when doing something. It will keep me from worrying too much."
With the Indian woman's aid Madeline was soon busy at the sheet-iron stove. From the larder, which led off from the kitchen, were brought several pieces of moose meat, and these were soon sizzling in the frying pan. Cold beans were warmed up, and some desiccated potatoes prepared, with a little water and salt added. Tea, too, was found, and a loaf of sour-dough bread. For Norman a piece of meat was placed in a kettle upon the stove, for the preparation of soup.
With admiring eyes Dan sat back and watched Madeline moving about the room. He noted her lithesome figure, the erect poise of her head, and the flush which now animated her face, caused partly by the heat, and partly by the exercise. He saw, too, how occasionally she glanced toward the unconscious form lying upon the cot, and the look of deep concern expressed in her eyes.
"She's a good woman," he said to himself; "thar's nothin' wrong about her. She's been badly treated in some way. That's clear as light. Eyes an' face sich as hers speak fer themselves."
It suited Madeline to be busy. She could not bear to remain quiet and watch Norman lying there so very still with that blank look upon his face. And yet her heart was somewhat fearful. Suppose he should open his eyes, see her, and turn away his head in disgust! When the food was prepared she placed it upon the table, and sat near watching the hungry trapper as he ate.
"My, this is fine!" he ejaculated. "I haven't enjoyed sich grub in a long time. It was sartinly good of ye, miss, to think of an old man like me. I don't desarve it."
"You deserve more than I can ever do for you," Madeline replied. "Just think what you have done for me and that poor child. The Lord will reward you, I am sure of that. I cannot imagine why you have done so much for us. We were such strangers to you."
"Don't say that, miss; please don't. Why shouldn't I do it fer you an' the kid? Didn't I once have a lassie of me own, long years ago it was, an' ye remind me much of her. But she was taken away from me, an' I was left all alone. I did it at fust, miss, fer her sake, an' also to help me pardner out. But now I'd do anything fer yer own sake, 'cause I know yer worthy of it."
"And you thought I was not a true woman?" questioned Madeline. "You imagined I was one of those poor fallen creatures who so often come North?"