"
Cameron did as he was told, and guided by the sound of the trader's
voice made his way to a low log building which turned out to be the
deserted "grub-house" of an old lumber camp.
"Come along," cried the trader heartily. "Welcome to Fifty Mile Camp.
Its accommodation is somewhat limited, but we can at least offer you
a bunk, grub, and fire, and these on a night like this are not to be
despised." He fumbled around in the dark for a few moments and found and
lit a candle stuck in an empty bottle. "There," he cried in a tone of
genial hospitality and with a kindly smile, "get a fire on here and make
yourself at home. Nighthawk demands my attention for the present. Don't
look so glum, old boy," he added, slapping Cameron gaily on the back.
"The worst is over." So saying, he disappeared into the blizzard,
singing at the top of his voice in the cheeriest possible tones:
"The army and navy for ever,
Three cheers for the red, white and blue!"
and leaving Cameron sorely perplexed as to what manner of man this might
be; who one moment could smile with all the malevolence of a fiend and
again could welcome him with all the generous and genial hospitality he
might show to a loved and long-lost friend.
CHAPTER III
THE STONIES
The icy cold woke Cameron as the grey light came in through the dirty
windows and the cracks between the logs of the grub-house.
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