“I don’t doubt it.”
“Me catch um dees morning.”
“Can we have some for dinner?” Bob asked.
“Oui. Me cook um. No geet cook now. Heem geet scared, run off. Me have do all work.”
“That’s too bad,” Bob assured him. “But you won’t find us hard to suit so long as the fishing is good.”
“Me bon cook.” There was no hint of braggadocia in the man’s voice. He was simply stating what, the boys were soon to learn, was a fact.
“Come an’ me show you whar you sleep.”
He led the way down a path to the right of the house and threw open the door of a small cabin built under the spreading branches of a giant spruce.
“Dees suit, oui?”
“Fine.” Both boys spoke the word at the same time.