Anne-Marie whistled shrilly. Someone waved.
"Come," she said. "Meet all my friends."
A man separated himself from the group, walked down the slope to meet them.
"Anne-Marie," he called. "Welcome. It was a long day without you." He came up to them, hugged Anne-Marie, smiled at Retief.
"Welcome," he said. "Come inside and be warm."
They crossed the trampled snow to the lodge and pushed through a heavy door into a vast low-beamed hall, crowded with people, talking, singing, some sitting at long plank tables, others ringed around an eight-foot fireplace at the far side of the room. Anne-Marie led the way to a bench near the fire. She made introductions and found a stool to prop Chip's feet near the blaze.
Chip looked around.
"I never seen so many perty gals before," he said delightedly.
"Poor Chip," one girl said. "His feet are cold." She knelt to pull off his boots. "Let me rub them," she said.
A brunette with blue eyes raked a chestnut from the fire, cracked it and offered it to Retief. A tall man with arms like oak roots passed heavy beer tankards to the two guests.