"So am I," said Paul devoutly.
He lay on his back on the soft turf, and watched the smoke rising away in a thin spire into the heavens. He could picture to himself the savage party as it sat about the fire, and it gave him a remarkable feeling of comfort and safety to know that he was so well protected by the ghosts that haunted the little island.
The smoke rose there all the morning, but Paul ceased by and by to pay any attention to it, although he and Jim Hart kept well within the cove, busying themselves with additions to their lean-to. Paul had found great strips of bark shed by the trees, and he used these to patch the roof. More pieces were used for the floor, and, with the bearskin spread over them, it was quite dry and snug. Then he stood off and regarded it with a critical and approving eye.
"You haven't seen a better house than that lately, have you, Jim?" he said, in a tone of pride.
"Considerin' the fact that I ain't seen any other uv any kind in a long time, I kin truthfully say I haven't," replied Jim Hart sardonically.
"You lack appreciation, Jim," said Paul. "Besides, your imagination is deficient. Why don't you look at this hut of ours and imagine that it is a magnificent stone castle?"
Jim Hart gazed wonderingly at the boy.
"Paul," he said, "you always wuz a puzzle to me. I can't see no magnificent stone castle—jest a bark an' brush hut."
Paul shook his head reprovingly.
"I am sorry for you, Jim," he said. "I not only see a magnificent stone castle, but I see a splendid town over there on the mainland."