Sheridan grinned skeptically and spat out part of his cigar. Appleton made no comment.
"Come over to the office, Bill," he said. "I want you to meet the ladies—my wife and niece and Mrs. Sheridan."
"I am afraid I am not very presentable," replied Bill dubiously as they crossed the clearing in the lengthening shadows; but he went with them without hesitation.
They were met at the door by a plump-faced lady of ample proportions who was evidently fighting a losing battle with a tendency toward embonpoint; and a slight, gray-haired one who stood poised upon the split puncheon that served as a door-step.
"Ladies, this is Bill, the foreman of this camp. Mrs. Sheridan, Bill, and my wife."
The ladies bowed formally, and secretly approved of the grace with which the foreman removed his cap and returned their salute. Nevertheless, there was an icy note in Mrs. Appleton's voice as she said:
"My niece begs to be excused. She is very tired after her rather hard trip." If Bill noticed the frigidity in the tone he gave no sign.
"I imagine it has been a very trying trip for you all. However, I will offer you the best accommodations the camp affords. If you will kindly choose which of those two rooms you prefer I will have your belongings moved in at once."
"I suppose you brought cots," he added, turning to Appleton.
"Yes, everything necessary for a tenderfoot outfit."