As we sat round the cheerful blaze of the fire, we naturally talked of the stranger, wondering who he could be. His dress was that of a Canadian trapper, but he spoke without any French accent, and the Dominie remarked that he recognised a touch of the Irish brogue on his tongue.
“It is odd that he should prefer camping out by himself, to joining us, when he might sleep in much greater security than he can all alone,” I observed.
“Tastes differ, and although it is not complimentary to us, he may prefer his own society to ours,” answered the Dominie, laughing.
“Perhaps he is on bad terms with the garrison of the fort, and consequently does not wish to associate with us, because we have been staying there,” remarked Dan.
“It may be that he has shot one of them, or sided with the Indians, or has committed some offence against the Government,” said Martin.
“We might talk all night, and yet come to no satisfactory conclusion,” replied the Dominie, “and now, it’s time to turn in, to be ready for our work to-morrow morning.”
We accordingly lay down wrapped in our blankets round the fire, Martin taking the first watch.