Cuthbert was too shrewd a general to miss so good an opportunity to make many friends out of these rough spirits; so, after the campers had enjoyed their cup apiece and eaten some supper, Cuthbert deliberately filled the aluminum receptacle, added condensed milk, with sugar, and then gravely presented it to the fellow whom he judged was the boss of the outfit, a big, raw-boned French-Canadian voyageur, with a beard like a pirate.
His eyes almost danced with delight, and he allowed the aromatic compound to gurgle down his capacious throat slowly, while he held back his head to gaze upward toward the first stars that had appeared in the blue arch overhead.
Twice he stopped and looked at his companions with a smirk, unable to refrain from tantalizing them; and it was ludicrous to see the way in which they scowled and shook their heads ominously—had it been any one but this strapping leader he might have found himself in trouble very soon.
However, in good time they one and all had a chance to taste and enjoy the results of Cuthbert's brewing; and he realized that his act had been a masterstroke so far as making friends of the gathering was concerned—the insidious coffee bean had proven more mighty than an army in changing the current of their thoughts.
And yet Cuthbert, who saw everything, could not help but notice that not one of these men of the post said anything to Owen, though all of them, from time to time, cast curious glances his way, as though he might be a puzzle they could not solve.
CHAPTER XVI.
A LITTLE WITCH.
After that the post loungers had the good sense to leave our young friends alone, though when they sauntered away most of them either thanked Cuthbert in a courteous French manner for his little treat, or else waved a hand to him, with a broad grin that stood for the same thing in the rough ways of their class.