"Home!" Rouletta paused momentarily in her task.
"Sure! Now—voila! Breakfas' she's serve in de baggage-car." With a flourish he poured the coffee, saying, "Let's see if you so hongry lak you pretend, or if I'm goin' keep you in bed some more."
Rouletta's appetite was all—yes, more—than she had declared it to be. The liberality with which she helped herself to oatmeal, her lavish use of the sugar—spoon, and her determined attack upon the can of "Carnation" satisfied any lingering doubts in Doret's mind. Her predatory interest in the appetizing contents of the frying-pan—she eyed it with the greedy hopefulness of a healthy urchin—also was eloquent of a complete recovery and brought a thrill of pride to her benefactor.
"Gosh! I mak' bad nurse for hospital," he grinned. "You eat him out of house an' lot." He finished his meal, then looked on until Rouletta leaned back with regretful satisfaction; thereupon he broke out:
"Wal, I got more s'prise for you."
"You—you can't surprise a toad, and—I feel just like one. Isn't food good?"
Now Rouletta had learned much about this big woodsman's peculiarities; among other things she had discovered that he took extravagant delight in his so-called "s'prises." They were many and varied, now a titbit to tempt her palate, or again a native doll which needed a complete outfit of moccasins, cap, and parka, and which he insisted he had met on the trail, very numb from the cold; again a pair of rabbit-fur sleeping-socks for herself. That crude dresser, which he had completed without her suspecting him, was another. Always he was making or doing something to amuse or to occupy her attention, and, although his gifts were poor, sometimes absurdly simple, he had, nevertheless, the power of investing them with importance. Being vitally interested in all things, big or little, he stimulated others to share in that interest. Life was an enjoyable game, inanimate objects talked to him, every enterprise was tinted imaginary colors, and he delighted in pretense—welcome traits to Rouletta, whose childhood had been starved.
"What is my new s'prise?" she queried. But, without answering, 'Poleon rose and left the tent; he was back a moment later with a bundle in his hands. This bundle he unrolled, displaying a fine fur parka, the hood of which was fringed with a deep fox-tail facing, the skirt and sleeves of an elaborate checker-board pattern of multicolored skins. Gay squirrel-tail streamers depended from its shoulders as further ornamentation. Altogether it was a splendid specimen of Indian needlework and Rouletta gasped with delight.
"How WONDERFUL!" she cried. "Is—it for me?" The pilot nodded. "Sure t'ing. De purtiest one ever I see. But look!" He called her attention to a beaver cap, a pair of beaded moose-hide mittens, and a pair of small fur boots that went with the larger garments—altogether a complete outfit for winter travel. "I buy him from dose hinjun hunter. Put him on, queeck."
Rouletta slipped into the parka; she donned cap and mittens; and
'Poleon was in raptures.