“If the detective gets a whiff of that he will track us around the world,” he said, at the conclusion of the operation.
“We don’t go ’round the world, so that a’ right,” replied the Maliseet.
The bear’s grease proved to be as potent as it smelt; and by the time dinner had been cooked and eaten, Tom’s muscles were free from pain and comparatively limber. But it was not until a full hour after sunset that Mick Otter halted and said they had arrived. He let fall his trace and vanished in a wall of spruces. Tom backed up and reclined on the loaded drag; and presently he saw the glow of firelight through the heavy branches and crowded stems of the thicket.
“Come in,” called Mick. “Plenty time unload after supper.”
The camp was one to be proud of. It was at least thirty feet long. In width it dwindled from about fifteen feet to as many inches, and its height permitted Tom to stand upright. Its front wall was built of logs and a part of the roof of poles and brush. The sides and the greater part of the roof were of rock and earth. It pierced the rugged hill at a gentle slant. It had been a brush-filled little gully backed by a little cave inhabited by a large bear, when Mick Otter first found it, many years ago.
When Tom scrambled through the small doorway, his snowshoes still on his feet, he found the place full of smoke from the newly lighted fire. The fire burned in a chimney of mud-plastered stones that went crookedly upward against one rocky wall and vanished through the roof of poles. Tom remarked on Mick’s evident appetite for smoke, remembering the camp on Racquet Pond.
“A’ right pretty soon, you bet,” said Mick. “Coons make nest in the chimley, maybe, or maybe snow stuff him up. One darn good chimley, anyhow. He suck up smoke fine most times.”
Snow was the trouble; and at that moment a bushel of it slid down and extinguished the fire, leaving the owner and his guest in absolute darkness.
“That a’ right,” said Mick. “Now he suck up smoke fine.”
He quickly cleared the snow and wet faggots from the hearth and laid and touched a match to dry bark and dry wood. He was right—the smoke went straight up the chimney in the most knowing manner. He was pleased.