They were white men, garbed in hunter’s dress. They seemed surprised to see the girl and boy on an apparently uninhabited island, and one said something in a low tone to the other, and motioned toward the crisp head of the boy. They spoke pleasantly, asking the name of the island.
Winona shrank behind Judah’s back, glancing shyly at them from beneath the clustering curls that hung about her face.
“This island has no name,” said Judah.
“Oh, then it is not a part of the Canadian shore?”
The questioner eyes the boy curiously. Judah moved his feet uneasily in the pebbles and sand.
“Not that I ever heard. It’s just an island.”
“Do you live here?”
“Yes, over there,” pointing toward the other side.
“We’re mighty hungry,” joined in the other man, who had pulled the boat to a safe resting place out of the reach of the incoming tide.
“We’ll pay you well for your fish,” he added.