The dreamer came back to reality, and to Pierre, demanding:
“Make it one-seventy-five, and I’ll do it.”
“Well, I will. Now for to-night. Shall we camp right here or go further into the forest. In the woods I’m always ready for bed, and it’s later than usual now.”
“Here. I know the very rocks you got under in that storm. They’ll do as good as a tent, and easier.”
Adrian, also, knew that spot, and in a few moments both lads were asleep. They had not stopped even to build the fire that was customary in such quarters.
Pierre was awake first, on the next morning, and Adrian slowly rose, stretching his cramped limbs and yawning widely.
“Well, I must say that Angelique’s good mattress beats rocks. You don’t catch me doing that again. I guess I’ll walk down to the water and have a last look at the island.”
“I guess you won’t. You’ll eat your breakfast right now. Then you’ll fix that birch for the carry. If I do the heavy work you’ve got to do the light.”
“Sounds fair enough, but you’re paid and I’m not.”
“It is fair.”