The Trapper stayed late that evening.  It had been cloudy all the afternoon, and at sundown it began to rain, so he was invited to supper.  The shower grew heavier instead of ending.  Caleb went out and dug a trench all round the teepee to catch the rain, then a leader to take it away.  After supper they sat around the campfire in the teepee; the wind arose and the rain beat down.  Yan had to go out and swing the smoke poles, and again his ear was greeted with the screech.  He brought in an armful of wood and made the inside of the teepee a blaze of cheerful light.  A high wind now came in gusts, so that the canvas flopped unpleasantly on the poles.

“Where’s your anchor rope?” asked the Trapper.

Sam produced the loose end; the other was fastened properly to the poles above.  It had never been used, for so far the weather had been fine; but now Caleb sunk a heavy stake, lashed the anchor rope to that, then went out and drove all the pegs a little deeper, and the Tribe felt safe from any ordinary storm.

There was nothing to attract the old Trapper to his own shanty.  His heirs had begun to forget that he needed food, and what little they did send was of vilest quality.  The old man was as fond of human society as any one, and was easily persuaded now to stay all night, “if you can stand Guy for a bedfeller.”  So Caleb and Turk settled down for a comfortable evening within, while the storm raged without.

“Say, don’t you touch that canvas, Guy; you’ll make it leak.”

“What, me?  Oh, pshaw!  How can it leak for a little thing like that?” and Guy slapped it again in bravado.

“All right, it’s on your side of the bed,” and sure enough, within two minutes a little stream of water was trickling from the place he had rubbed, while elsewhere the canvas turned every drop.

This is well known to all who have camped under canvas during a storm, and is more easily remembered than explained.

The smoke hung heavy in the top of the teepee and kept crowding down until it became unpleasant.

“Lift the teepee cover on the windward side, Yan.  There, that’s it—­but hold on,” as a great gust came in, driving the smoke and ashes around in whirlwinds.  “You had ought to have a lining.  Give me that canvas:  that’ll do.”  Taking great care not to touch the teepee cover, Caleb fastened the lining across three pole spaces so that the opening under the canvas was behind it.  This turned the draught from their backs and, sending it over their heads, quickly cleared the teepee of smoke as well as kept off what little rain entered by the smoke hole.

“It’s on them linings the Injuns paint their records and adventures.  They mostly puts their totems on the outside an’ their records on the lining.”

“Bully,” said Sam; “now there’s a job for you.  Little Beaver; by the time you get our adventures on the inside and our totems on the out I tell you we’ll be living in splendour.”