But in this he was mistaken for, after the table had been loaded with food of many varieties, they were invited to sit up and eat.
"They've got a good chef that's sure," Jack whispered soon after they started eating.
"Both as to quality and quantity," Bob agreed.
Great as was the quantity of food provided it disappeared rapidly before the attack of the half-breeds who ate voraciously and with little regard for table etiquette. There was no conversation except a whispered word now and then between the two boys who sat side by side. The Indian, whether by accident or design they could not tell, had been placed on the other side of the table. Two large logs were blazing in the fireplace and, as Bob looked about the room, he was reminded of the many tales he had read of the old Norsemen and their crude, but rugged civilization. It seemed that history had been turned back a thousand years.
As soon as all had finished eating two of the men began to clear the table while the others, with the exception of the leader, began a game of cards at a smaller table in one of the corners near the fire.
"What you do up here, eh?"
The leader shot the question at them so suddenly that both boys gave a sudden start. Bob cast a questioning glance at Lucky and tried to read in his face whether or not he ought to divulge the object of their trip. But the Indian's face gave no sign and, after a moment's hesitation, he decided that it could do no harm to tell him.
"We are looking for our uncle," he said.
"Oui? What heem name?"
"Lakewood. Silas Lakewood."