“Food,” she murmured to herself, “I’m ravenously hungry. He spoke of putting on the birds. I wonder what he could have meant?”
She did not have long to wait. A moment later there came to her nostrils the delicious aroma of perfectly brewed coffee. Mingled with it were various savory odors which gave promise of a rich meal.
“You are not yet fully warmed,” said their host, “so you may eat by the fire.”
He was pushing before him a tea-wagon of wonderful design and craftsmanship. This was fairly creaking under its load of chinaware of exquisite design, and silver which did not require a second look to tell that it was sterling. Marian barely avoided a gasp at sight of it.
If the service was perfect, the food was no less so. Four ptarmigan, those wonderful “quail of the Arctic,” broiled to a delicious turn, were flanked with potatoes, gravy, peas and apple sauce. The desert was blueberries preserved in wild honey.
“Only idleness or indifference,” smiled their host as he caught their looks of appreciation, “can hinder one from securing appetizing foods in any land.”
“And now,” he said as they finished, “there are questions you may wish to ask; information that you may wish to impart.”
“Why—we—” Marian began in some confusion.
He interrupted her with a wave of the hand. “It will all keep until morning. This habit young people have, of sitting up talking all hours of the night because life seems too exciting for sleep, is all wrong. You are in need of rest. ‘Everything in its good time’ is my motto. Fortunately my guest room is warm. The fire is not yet burned out. Last night I had the honor of furnishing a night’s lodging to the Agent of our Government.”
“The Agent?” Marian asked in surprise.