“Won't you eat with me?” proffered the boy hospitably.
But Thorpe declined. He could, however, see canned goods, hard tack, and condensed milk.
In the course of the evening the boy approached the older man's camp, and, with a charming diffidence, asked permission to sit awhile at their fire.
He was full of delight over everything that savored of the woods, or woodscraft. The most trivial and everyday affairs of the life interested him. His eager questions, so frankly proffered, aroused even the taciturn Charley to eloquence. The construction of the shelter, the cut of a deer's hide, the simple process of “jerking” venison,—all these awakened his enthusiasm.
“It must be good to live in the woods,” he said with a sigh, “to do all things for yourself. It's so free!”
The men's moccasins interested him. He asked a dozen questions about them,—how they were cut, whether they did not hurt the feet, how long they would wear. He seemed surprised to learn that they are excellent in cold weather.
“I thought ANY leather would wet through in the snow!” he cried. “I wish I could get a pair somewhere!” he exclaimed. “You don't know where I could buy any, do you?” he asked of Thorpe.
“I don't know,” answered he, “perhaps Charley here will make you a pair.”
“WILL you, Charley?” cried the boy.
“I mak' him,” replied the Indian stolidly.