I could see that Miss Jelliffe was deeply interested in these tales of things related very simply, very naturally, as if the sailor had spoken of catching squid or under-running trawls.  She wondered, as I did, why this man who had sailed so many seas should have drifted here and taken up his life in a strange land with the little yellow-haired boy in which his heart was enwrapped.

Sammy and Susie listened open-mouthed to those tales of things they could not realize or understand, for they could make little out of them, since the man was often hard pushed for words, using a good many from his own tongue.

“Why don’t you go back to your own country?” asked Miss Jelliffe, very softly.

But he made no answer, pretending not to have heard her question.  For an instant she looked at him, then turned her head away.  I also saw that a strange moisture had gathered in the big man’s eyes, lighted as they were by the flames into which he peered, as if seeking in them lost things that were past redeeming.

For some time we all remained very silent, as if oppressed by the awe of these tales, and I had to take a desperate measure to change the trend of thought.  In a low voice I began to sing a lilting Irish melody with a sweet refrain in which Miss Jelliffe joined, soon followed by Sammy’s deep tones and Susie’s shrill ones, while Frenchy began to keep time with a blackened pot-stick.

So it was only a few minutes before cheerful thoughts returned to us, as the darkness deepened and the stars glittered, clear and close at hand.  Then we finally said good-night and Miss Jelliffe sought her tent, attended by Susie.

We men went away to our lean-to, and talked a little longer before stretching out for a sound night’s sleep.  And it seemed but a few instants before we were up again, with the sunlight beginning to stream over the distant hillocks towards the sea that was now hidden from us.  I took my rod to the outlet, where trout were rising, and returned soon to find that coffee was being made while the men were cutting bacon and chopping more wood.

Then Susie came to us, wanting some hot water and hurriedly returning to the tent.  Finally the flaps were turned aside and the young woman came out, rosy of cheek and bright-eyed.  Susie had a small fire before her tent, and Miss Jelliffe held her hands before it for a moment.  When she came towards us I was kneeling on a small rock at the water’s edge, cleaning trout, while Frenchy was scraping away at the caribou head, the scalp of which hung over a pole, to dry a little after a good salting.  Sammy was smiting away at an old pine log for more firewood.

“Good morning,” she cried.  “It is a perfect shame that you allowed me to sleep so long.  Oh!  The beautiful trout!  Where did you get them?”

I explained my capture, and told her that a few moments had been enough to secure all that were needed for all hands.  The two men grinned at her delightedly, as she went up to them, happy and smiling, and she had to inform them that she had spent a wonderful night of such sleep as no one could possibly get outside of the wilderness.