"I am," he replied.
"But—well I don't exactly see why! If it were gold, I could understand. One always finds gold in these deserted cabins, according to the story-books. And we find flour—and you rejoice!"
"I do," answered Stane joyfully. "Miss Yardely, that flour is a godsend. We were very short, as you told me, only a pound or two left, and I was afraid that we might have to live on meat and fish alone, and you don't know what that means. I do! I lived for three weeks on moose-meat last winter and I haven't forgotten it yet. For Heaven's sake open the other tins."
The girl obeyed him, and presently the remaining tins revealed their contents. One held about nine pounds of rice and the other was three parts filled with beans.
"We're in luck, great luck!" cried Stane. "Just the things we need. Any time during the last fortnight I would have given a thousand pounds for those stores."
"I expect the owner, if he returns, will be glad to sell them you for a good deal less," she retorted with mock petulance. "It was treasure trove I was hoping for."
"You can't live on gold," laughed Stane, "and you can on the contents of these tins. We must annex them. If the owner has deserted the cabin it won't matter; and if he returns he will bring fresh stores with him, those being but the surplus of his last winter's stock. Nothing could have been more fortunate."
"But flour, and rice and beans!" protested Helen in simulated disgust. "They are so unromantic! It will sound so poor if ever I tell the story in a drawing-room!"
Stane laughed again. "There's nothing romantic about straight meat without change. Those cereals are the best of treasure trove for us."
"Well," conceded the girl laughing with him. "You ought to know, and if you are satisfied I must be. If these stores will carry us through the time until we start for civilization I won't grumble."