“With all my heart,” answered Melville. “Give me your health, your literary and artistic talent, and it is a bargain.”
“I am afraid they are not transferable,” said the artist, “but we won't prolong the discussion now. I am neglecting the rites of hospitality; I must prepare supper for my guests. You must know that here in the wilderness I am my own cook and dishwasher.”
“Let me help you?” said Melville.
“No, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, “it is more in my line. I have often helped mother at home, and I don't believe you have had any experience.”
“I confess I am a green hand,” said Melville, laughing, “but, as Irish girls just imported say, 'I am very willing.'”
“On the whole, I think the boy can assist me better,” said Falkland. “So, Mr. Melville, consider yourself an aristocratic visitor, while Herbert and myself, sons of toil, will minister to your necessities.”
“By the way, where do you get your supplies?” asked Melville.
“Eight miles away there is a mining camp and store. I ride over there once a week or oftener, and bring home what I need.”
“What is the name of the camp?”
“Deer Creek. I will point out to Herbert, before I leave you, the bridle path leading to it.”