Obed proved to be a pretty good cook, despite the humility with which he had remarked that of course he could not expect to compete on even terms with fellows who had had so many better opportunities to acquire the “knack” of things, than had come his way.

The bread was as fine as any Bandy-legs had ever eaten in his own home, where a high-priced cook held sway over the kitchen.  There was also a meat pie that seemed delicious, both as to crust and contents, when opened; though Obed in-formed them that it was made of canned beef, and even displayed the recent tin jacket, with its telltale label, as confirmation to his assertion.

“Yuh see, boys,” he remarked, laughingly, “I don’t want yuh to think I’d poach a deer in the close season, and palm it off as mountain mutton, like they do at some o’ the big hotels up here in the Adirondacks, I’m told.  Course I do shoot a deer once in a while in season; and lots o’ pa’tridges, they bein’ so tame yuh c’n knock them over as they sit on the lower limb o’ a tree after flushin’.  I ketch wheens o’ trout, too, from time to time; but I give yuh my word I never yet killed anything when the law was on it, never!”

When Obed said a thing in his emphatic way, he was to be relied on, Max thought.  The woods boy could look very sober at times, though, as a rule, there was that merry gleam in his eye that told how much he loved a joke.

Altogether they had a delightful meal, and what was even better, there was an abundance to give every one three bountiful helpings, which fact pleased Bandy-legs and Steve in particular.  The former, on passing his plate—­for they actually had such articles at this wonderful lodge under the pines—­for the third help, excused himself by remarking aside: 

“It’s queer what a terrible appetite toting a pack a few miles over a carry gives a fellow.  Now, at home I’m generally satisfied with one portion, but once let me get into the harness, and I seem to have no end of capacity.  Say, I’d eat you out of house and home, Obed, if I stayed very long at your ranch.”

“No danger o’ that, I guess, Bandy-legs,” replied the other, for he had of course taken quite naturally to calling these new friends by their customary names, just as boys always do get on quick terms of familiarity.  “Last time I went to town I laid in quite a wheen o’ stuff.  Then there’s always the crick to git trout outen; and in a short time you could shoot pa’tridges without breakin’ the game laws.  So don’t let that worry yuh any.  I’m on’y too tickled to have some fellers around.  It does git kinder lonely here, sometimes, I own up.”

“Whew!  I should think it would, Obed,” said Steve, lost in admiration for the amazing nerve displayed by the woods boy in remaining all by himself, winter and summer, seldom, if ever, seeing a human face, and apparently devoting all his energies to making his fur farm experiment turn out to be a success.  “Nothing would tempt me to stick it out here a whole winter.  Why, I’d die of the blues, and let the black foxes go to the dickens, while I made break for the nearest town, so I could hear the sound of a human voice.”