“That is very strange,” said the girl wonderingly.
“Yes,” was the reply, “very strange, so strange indeed that I have tried to persuade the corporal that all that he has told us is just a snow-dream.”
“But you have not persuaded him?” asked Miss La Farge, with a quick glance at the corporal’s face.
It was Bracknell himself who answered. “No, I have not, as yet, been persuaded, Miss La Farge.”
“My eloquence was wasted, Babette,” laughed Rayner easily. “Corporal Bracknell has that British stubbornness which is a nuisance to our friends and a terror to our enemies.”
Miss La Farge laughed as she replied, “That is a characteristic of the male persuasion.”
With a smiling nod she withdrew, closing the door behind her, and Rayner rose from his chair and drew a curtain of moose-hide over the door.
“Miss La Farge is a good companion for my cousin.”
“From French Canada, I suppose?” queried the corporal.
“Father was of that stock, but her mother was partly of Scotch descent, partly native. Joy’s mother died young, and Babette’s brought them up together. They are foster-sisters and inseparables.”