Perhaps he had had evil designs on some of their property—the beautiful green canoes that must look particularly inviting to any one tired of tramping through the endless pine woods; or could it be that lovely aluminum set of cooking utensils that was piled up in plain sight?
Teddy noticed that the man had his eyes fastened almost greedily on the gun which he himself was holding; why, he did not even seem to waste a glance upon the more expensive weapon which Dolph sported. And that would seem to prove that he knew a good thing when he saw it. Indeed, since he himself carried an old-fashioned gun, no doubt a substantial up-to-date weapon must appeal to him, as a hunter.
The fellow saw that they no longer made any threatening motions. He showed his cool assurance by dropping down on the ground, not a great distance away from the fire; and sniffing the air in a way that could have but one meaning. He was hungry, and would like to have something to eat.
Woods hospitality is no respecter of persons. If a hungry man comes into camp and asks for a bite, common decency compels one to feed him, even though later you expect to order him on, at the muzzle of your gun.
So Teddy made a motion to Amos, which the latter easily understood. He started to make a pot of coffee, knowing that the man would never drink tea. Besides, Amos deliberately opened another can of corned beef, which he expected the giant would entirely devour, since he must be possessed of a tremendous appetite.
There were crackers, and some left-over biscuits which Amos had cooked on the preceding day in a little make-shift oven. All these he began to set out before the man, before another word had been said.
It was not considered polite to ask any questions before the edge of the stranger’s appetite had been taken off. The first thing Teddy inquired was very naturally in connection with his identity.
“Would you mind introducing yourself to us?” he asked, as he watched the terrific inroads being made on their stock provisions; while Dolph was figuring on just how many days their larder could stand such an onslaught.
“Me? I’m Gabe Hackett,” remarked the giant, with a quick glance toward Amos. “Used to be logger onct; knowed Amos Simmons, too, when I worked fur ther Woodstock Company a cupple o’ years back. I been about everything thar is—trapper in winter time, takin’ nigh a thousand muskrat pelts one season; timber cruiser, a skirmishing through, new fields lookin’ fur wood that cud be bought up by my company; trader; spruce gum collector; honey harvester, whar the bees they lays up a store o’ the sweet stuff in holler trees. Reckon I ’bout near been all thar is for a honest man ter make a livin, at, up hyar in the Michigan woods.”