“Then,” cried the girl in an excited whisper, “we could get him.”
The doctor smiled at her. The Indian soon had his fire going and, unrolling his blanket pack, he took thence what looked like a lump of meat, cut some strips from it and hung them from pointed sticks over the fire. He proceeded to gather some poles from the dead wood lying about.
“What now is he going to do?” inquired Moira.
“Wait,” replied the doctor.
The Indian proceeded to place the poles in order against the rock, keeping his eye on the toasting meat the while and now and again turning it before the fire. Then he began to cut branches of spruce and balsam.
“By the living Jingo!” cried the doctor, greatly excited, “I declare he's going to camp.”
“To sleep?” said Moira.
“Yes,” replied the doctor. “He had no sleep last night.”
“Then,” cried the girl, “we can get him.”
The doctor gazed at her in admiration.