A little farther on the way, Billy seated himself on a fallen log, and cheered his inner man by a "bite of breakfast." Presently a shy, wild creature drew near; took note and courage and scurried to Billy's feet. With generous hand the boy shared his early meal, and made a familiar noise that further won the little animal's confidence.
Billy had his plans well laid. There was a lumberman's hut a day's walk from the camp; he must make that by night. There would be a rough bed and chopped wood; he could sleep and rest and then, if all went well, he ought to make St. Angé by the end of the following day, particularly if he got a "lift," which was not impossible.
Just then, for the morning was beginning to show through the gaunt trees, a bird-note sounded. Billy rose quickly—there was no time to waste. Sometimes a bird sounded that warning when a storm was near. It would never do for him to face a storm so far from shelter.
All that day Billy trudged on. Fortunately it was a constant, though gradual, decline and the journey was made easier. He ate occasionally, and gained courage and strength, but it was nearly nine o'clock—though Billy was not aware of it—before the landmarks proved his hope true—the woodman's hut was near at hand.
The boy had all the keenness of his age and environment. He knew that others besides himself might avail themselves of the shelter, and he had reason for choosing his company; so, before he reached the house, he took to tip-toeing, and keeping clear of the underbrush.
The hut had one small window, before which hung a dilapidated shutter by a rusty hinge. The door opened, Billy knew, into a little passage from which the room door opened, and from which a rickety ladder led up to a loft, unused and apparently useless.
As the boy neared the house his trained senses detected the smell of fire and the sound of muffled voices. He crept to the window, and through the broken shutter saw two figures crouching by the blazing logs, but the faces were turned away, and the gloom of the room made it impossible for Billy to decide whether the men were familiars or strangers.
Meanwhile the wind was rising with a storm in its keeping; there was nothing to do but seek refuge, for, until he could determine his further course, Billy decided to take to the loft in order to reconnoitre.
Cautiously he made his way to the door, lifted the latch and gained the entry. There he paused, for the voices had ceased speaking and the boy feared that he had been heard. After a moment he concluded it was safer to be in the loft in case the men were suspicious, so he hurriedly mounted the ladder and crawled along the dusty floor of the space overhead.
Gratefully, to his half-frozen form, the heat from below rose, and with it came the odour of frying bacon, and the sound of sizzling fat.