"No, you don't; I own the tent, the stove, the sleigh, and a whole lot of the grub," shouted the other.
John passed on. Another petty problem for the Mounted Police! They are great men, great workers, those yellow-legs!
There were some industrious 'prentices at Lake Bennett, for down along the shore were numerous groups of men, building boats.
"Like beef-steak?" asked Hugh, as John returned.
"Yes—rather."
A big frying-pan, with sizzling meat, was busy on the little tin camp stove.
"Keep an eye on the meat, John, while I get some water."
Hugh took a pail and went off to the river.
George Bruce was away with an axe getting wood, so John was left in charge. Shortly afterwards George came along, hauling a log of firewood by an axe driven into it. John ran to assist him, and when the two had returned with the wood Hugh was arriving with the water. John again turned his attention to the frying-pan: the largest piece of steak was gone!
"What has happened to the steak?" John asked.