“How are you going to sleep, Mr. Pitt?”
“On a bed of boughs.”
“Where?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of room all around.”
“And no shelter? Suppose it rains? Why do you wish to leave this
cave?”
“My dear Miss Baldwin!” I protested.
“Shocked?” she said mournfully. “I can’t help it. It seems so
ridiculous to think of such things out here. We—we’re Injuns. See,
there’s a nice corner right near the opening, yet with a roof over it.
We can fill that with boughs. I—I’d get frightened, really, if you
left me here all alone.”
“Putting it that way, of course—”
“That’s right. Now I’m going to help make your bed.”
Fifteen minutes later, perhaps, I lay down upon a pile of branches
near the mouth of the cavern and blew out the candle.
“Good night,” came Betty’s voice from the canoe.
“Good night.”
Silence reigned. We were tired; soon we grew drowsy. Just before she
fell asleep Betty murmured—
“Mr. Pitt!”
“Yes.”
“I still insist ’tisn’t fair—we haven’t got—two canoes.”