He was, as a matter of fact, grimly serious for the moment as he wondered at the change that had come over him. His life in the silent Bush, the struggle with the icy river, and even Laura Waynefleet, who had encouraged him in his work of rehabilitation, had by degrees become no more than a dim, blurred memory. He knew that he could recall it all, but he had no wish to make the effort, for it was more pleasant to hear the sighing of the summer wind about the firs of Bonavista, and wonder languidly what his companion thought.
“I haven’t thanked you for taking care of me the day we were left behind on the beach,” said Violet.
Nasmyth made a sign of protest. “I don’t think you are under any very great obligation to me. As a matter of fact, my efforts on your behalf nearly resulted in my drowning you. Besides, you see, there was really not the slightest cause for uneasiness. Acton certainly would have sent for us when the wind dropped.”
“But it might have blown for days.”
“Then,” said Nasmyth, with a twinkle in his eyes, “we would have lived on salmon and berries until it stopped. One really can live on them for a considerable time, though they are not remarkably palatable when one has anything else to eat; in fact, it’s a thing I’ve done.”
Salmon is not esteemed in that country, except for the purpose of sending East in cans, and it is seldom that anybody eats it except the Indians. There is probably no diet that more rapidly grows satiating.
“Ah,” exclaimed the girl, with a shiver, “it would have been horrible.”
She was evidently not thinking of the salmon, but of the dreary, dripping Bush, and Nasmyth looked at her with reproach in his eyes.
“I really don’t think it would have been,” he said. “In fact, I believe we could have lived there for a little while very contentedly––that is, when I had fixed things 192 up a bit. After all, there is a certain glamour in the Bush when one gets used to it.”