"But eet one ver' close call," he said.
Bob was very weak, too weak in fact to talk much and the Indian insisted that he keep perfectly quiet. With the light came the first flakes of snow presaging the coming of the storm which the Indian had been expecting.
"Injun mak' hut, you tend heem," he ordered.
He took one of the axes and went off into the woods to return a few minutes later dragging a number of long poles which he had trimmed clear of branches. With these and a lot of spruce boughs he quickly fashioned a rude, but strong tepee large enough to accommodate the three of them.
"You think it's going to be a bad storm?" Jack asked after they had placed Bob inside.
"Mebby. Most storm some bad up here."
"How long will it be before Bob is able to go on?"
"Two, mebby three day."
"Well, we must wait till he's all right."
"Oui, we wait."