They toiled steadily till noon, and then returned to their log-hut for dinner, which consisted of cold pork, hot tea, biscuit, and salt butter. They were still in the midst of this meal when the door opened and a man entered, carrying under his arm a pair of long snow-shoes, which he had just taken off.
“Glad to see you, Bellew, we had expected you earlier,” said the elder McLeod, rising and shaking hands with the trapper.
“I would have been earlier,” replied Bellew, handing a letter to McLeod, “but for a redskin whom I met on the way, who delayed me somewhat. He tells me something about a wreck having been seen by some of his tribe a good bit down the gulf, but what between the difficulty of makin’ out his lingo, and his stupidity, or unwillingness to communicate all he knew, I have found out very little about it. This only I feel pretty sure of, that a wreck must have occurred, and that, from something he said, there may perhaps be some poor fellows lying on the shore there.”
“If so, they will surely perish in such weather,” said McLeod, “and the least we can do is to go and try to rescue them.”
“No need for you to go,” said the trapper, “I will go alone with a small supply of provisions, and see whether it be true. If I find any of ’em alive I can make them comfortable enough for a short time, and then return here for such help as may be required.”
“You’ll start at once, then?” asked McLeod.
“Yes, at once.”
“Here, have something to eat first,” said Kenneth, pointing to the viands.
Jonas Bellew accepted the invitation. At once he sat down, and ate in silence heartily, while the elder McLeod read the letter.
“Have you bad news?” asked Ian, as he watched his father’s face.