“You are welcome to as much as you wish,” replied Judah politely, at once passing over a number of trout and a huge salmon.
“Show them our fireplace, Judah,” said Winona, at length finding her tongue. Judah led the way silently toward the sheltered cove where they had constructed a rude fireplace of rocks, and where the things necessary for their comfort during long tramps over their wooded domain, were securely hidden.
The children busied themselves with hospitable preparations for a meal, and the men flung themselves down on a bed of dry leaves and moss, lighted their pipes, and furtively watched them.
“Likely nigger,” commented one.
“Worth five hundred, sure. But the girl puzzles me. What is she?” replied the one who seemed to be the leader.
“She’s no puzzle to me. I’ll tell you what she is—she’s a nigger, too, or I’ll eat my hat!” this with a resounding slap upon the thigh to emphasize his speech.
“Possible!” replied the leader, lazily watching Winona through rings of smoke. “By George! Thomson, you don’t suppose we’ve struck it at last!”
“Mum’s the word,” said Thomson with an expressive wink. Judah brought some wood and Winona piled it on until a good bed of coals lay within the stone fireplace. Then she hung the fish on pieces of leather string, turning them round and round. Soon they lay in platters of birch, a savory incense filling the air, and in no time the hunters were satisfying their hunger with the delicious salmon and trout, washed down by copious draughts of pure spring water from a nearby rill whose gentle gurgle one could distinguish as it mingled with the noise of the dashing surf and the roar of the falls.
The children stood and watched them. Judah fingering lovingly the feathers of the dead eagle which he had taken from the boat.
“You haven’t told us who you are,” suggested the leader with a smile.