“I've been thinking we'll have to build you a house right over there.” Her entertainer indicated the shore behind her.
“Oppos'?” exclaimed Françoise, turning with pleased interest. Even in her husband's lifetime little thought had ever been taken for her.
“Yes, directly opposite. We can fix it up snug like our winter camp at the other end of the lake.”
“Have you two camp?”
“Yes—a winter camp and a summer camp. But we have stayed comfortably here in the cook-tent until the thermometer went fourteen degrees below zero. We'll sleep in it till we get your house done, and you can take the tent. If there are no parties wanting guides, we might as well begin it in the morning.”
“But,” faltered Françoise, “afterw'iles when de ice is t'ick, and you go to de hudder camp—”
“Oh, we'll take care of you,” he promised. “You and Gougou will go with us. We couldn't leave you on this side.”
“In de dark nights,” shuddered Françoise.
“You needn't be afraid, any time. When we are off during the day we always leave Jess and Jim to guard the camp. Jess is a Scotch collie and Jim is a blood-hound. He's there in the kennel. Neither man nor varmint would have any chance with them.”
“I been use' to live alone when my husban' is away, M'sieu' Brownee. I not 'fraid like you t'ink. But if Gougou be cold and hongry.”