They found Mr. Mace seated by the stove, with his stiff leg in a chair.
“How do, Andy,” said the stranger. “Long time you no see me.” Mr. Mace sat up straight and stared from beneath shaggy eyebrows. Then he smiled and relaxed.
“Yer dead right it’s a long time, Pete Sabatis!” he exclaimed. “Yer right there, old hoss. Glad to see ye agin at last, anyhow. Set down an’ make yerself to home. What’s brought ye away acrost into these woods, anyhow? Be they crowdin’ ye over on the Tobique country, Pete?”
The visitor cleared himself from his outside things, including his snowshoes, discarded his pack and rifle, then sat down close to the stove and took the cold pipe from his mouth. He held the pipe up and fixed the keen glance of his uncovered eye on Andy.
“He don’t burn no tobac this four-five day,” he said.
Mr. Mace laughed and turned to Young Dan.
“What d’ye think o’ that, pardner?” he asked. “Here’s Pete Sabatis, that I ain’t set eyes on this twenty year, come all the way acrost from the Tobique country to bum a fill o’ baccy!”
“You got it a’right,” said the Maliseet, without so much as a flicker of a smile. “That feller say you got plenty. You make joke jes’ like you ust to, hey?”
“I reckon ye’re the reel joker, Pete,” answered Andy, handing over a plug of tobacco. “You got the reel face for it, anyhow—the same old wooden face an’ the same identical old eye. Well, yer jokes is harmless; and if ye come all these hunderds o’ miles for somethin’ more’n a smoke I reckon ye’ll spit it out sooner or later. I be right-down glad to see ye agin, anyhow.”
“Same here,” said Young Dan. “If you’re a friend of Andy’s I hope you’ll stop a while with us.”