“All off!” cried the trader, riding forward upon his broncho, which, apparently quite untired by the long night ride, danced forward through the bunch gaily biting and slashing as he went. “All off! Get them into the 'bunk-house' there, Little Thunder. Come along, Mr. Cameron, we have reached our camp. Take off the bridle and blanket and let your pony go.”
Cameron did as he was told, and guided by the sound of the trader's voice made his way to a low log building which turned out to be the deserted “grub-house” of an old lumber camp.
“Come along,” cried the trader heartily. “Welcome to Fifty Mile Camp. Its accommodation is somewhat limited, but we can at least offer you a bunk, grub, and fire, and these on a night like this are not to be despised.” He fumbled around in the dark for a few moments and found and lit a candle stuck in an empty bottle. “There,” he cried in a tone of genial hospitality and with a kindly smile, “get a fire on here and make yourself at home. Nighthawk demands my attention for the present. Don't look so glum, old boy,” he added, slapping Cameron gaily on the back. “The worst is over.” So saying, he disappeared into the blizzard, singing at the top of his voice in the cheeriest possible tones:
“The army and navy for ever,
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!”
and leaving Cameron sorely perplexed as to what manner of man this might be; who one moment could smile with all the malevolence of a fiend and again could welcome him with all the generous and genial hospitality he might show to a loved and long-lost friend.
CHAPTER III
THE STONIES
The icy cold woke Cameron as the grey light came in through the dirty windows and the cracks between the logs of the grub-house. Already Little Thunder was awake and busy with the fire in the cracked and rusty stove. Cameron lay still and watched. Silently, swiftly the Indian moved about his work till the fire began to roar and the pot of snow on the top to melt. Then the trader awoke. With a single movement he was out upon the floor.
“All hands awake!” he shouted. “Aha, Mr. Cameron! Good sleep, eh? Slept like a bear myself. Now grub, and off! Still blowing, eh? Well, so much the better. There is a spot thirty miles on where we will be snug enough. How's breakfast, Little Thunder? This is our only chance to-day, so don't spare the grub.”