n you shall cook a bit here. There will not
be any bloaters, but as much salmon as you like to grill."

"Salmon?" said Esau, pausing in the act of paring off some bacon rind.

"Yes; salmon. The rivers are so full of them here sometimes, that they
crowd one another out on to the shore."

Esau gave him a look, and then went on preparing the bacon, afterwards
setting it to frizzle over the clear fire.

"I must rout up some basins," said Gunson, rising. "I don't suppose we
shall get any tea-cups and saucers here."

He went out of the rough room, and left us together just as the kettle
began to sing, and the bacon to send out an appetising odour.

"Well," said Esau, "that don't smell bad. Seems to make one feel not
quite so mizzable to hear a kettle singing again. I did feel bad a bit
back."

"Didn't you?"

"Yes: wretched," I replied.

"And all the more," continued Esau, "because old Gunson seems to have
taken us into custody like, and orders us to do this and do that."

"But--"

"Now do let _me_ finish," grumbled Esau. "I know what you're going to
say, and I'll say it for you. You're allus getting into scrapes, and
he's getting you out of 'em."

"And you?" I said, laughing.

"Hah! that's better," cried Esau, pouncing on a piece of bacon and
turning it over. "I do like to see you laugh a bit; seems to make
things cheery. But I say, when is he going his way and going to let us
go ours?"

"How's the bacon getting on?" said Gunson, entering, and the rough board
door swung to. "Ah, nice and brown, and the kettle close upon the boil.
Know how to make tea, Gordon? Not our way in camp I know. Look here."

He turned out nearly a handful out of the common tin canister, waited
till the water in the open kettle was bubbling all over, and then threw
in the tea, lifted the kettle off, and stood it down.

"There," he said, "that's camp fashion. The old lady's going to bring
us something to drink it out of;" and as he spoke the settler's wife
brought in two tin pint mugs and a cracked and chipped basin, which she
banged roughly on the table.

Gunson gave me a peculiar look as the sour woman turned away.

"I say, Mrs--I don't know your name."

"Well, what is it now?" said the woman, in a vinegary tone. "I can't
spend all my time waiting on you."

"My dear madam, no," said Gunson, in the most gentlemanly way; "I only
wanted to say that a cup of good tea in this wilderness is a thing that
one may offer