"A haunch of moose, or, if he has
been lucky, of caribou. I had forgotten Tavish's cache or we might have
saved our meat."
He ran a hand through his thick, grayish hair until it stood up about
his head like a brush.
David tried not to reveal his restlessness as they waited. At each new
sound he hoped that what he heard was Tavish's footsteps. He had quite
decidedly planned his action. Tavish would enter, and of course there
would be greetings, and possibly half an hour or more of smoking and
talk before he brought up the Firepan Creek country, unless, as might
fortuitously happen, Father Roland spoke of it ahead of him. After that
he would show Tavish the picture, and he would stand well in the light
so that it would be impressed upon Tavish all at once. He noticed that
the chimney of the lamp was sooty and discoloured, and somewhat to the
Missioner's amusement he took it off and cleaned it. The light was much
more satisfactory then. He wandered about the cabin, scrutinizing, as if
out of curiosity, Tavish's belongings. There was not much to discover.
Close to the bunk there was a small battered chest with riveted steel
ribs. He wondered whether it was unlocked, and what it contained. As he
stood over it he could hear plainly the _thud, thud, thud_, of the thing
outside--the haunch of meat--as though some one were tapping fragments
of the Morse code in a careless and broken sort of way.
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