As Jean stood and watched them through a tiny spot in the little window which the banked-up snow had not covered, her heart thrilled with pride.  They were but humble men, she knew, yet glad and ready to maintain their Sovereign’s cause in the heart of the great northern wilds.  She thought of what Norman had said about King George, and a smile flitted across her face.  But what did his words amount to before the stern reality of such staunch champions as these obscure mast-cutters?  Men might curse and rave, but how futile they were against the spirit of loyalty implanted in the hearts of determined, rugged men.

In the meantime, the cook, the one man of the mast-cutting gang who was left behind because of his age, had prepared food and tea for the new arrivals.  Dane and Jean were hungry, and thoroughly enjoyed the rough, though well-cooked meat and bread.  “Old Dennis,” as he was called, waited upon the visitors with considerable pleasure.  His eyes twinkled with merriment as he noted the happiness of the young couple.

“This is the fust time a female woman has ever been in this shanty,” he told them.  “I never expected to see the day when I’d be feedin’ one with me own hands, an’ sich a handsome lass, at that.  A storm ginrally brings something I’ve noticed.  It was allus raining or snowin’, or blowin’ when a baby came to our house, an’ I had to go to the neighbours fer help.”

“How many children have you?” Jean asked with a smile.

“How many, Miss?  Why, I ’most fergit.  Now, let me see; there’s Bennie, an’ Susie, an’ Tommy, an’ the twins, an’ Pete, an’ Dennis, an’ the baby.  Oh, I fergot Martha, Sam, an’ another pair of twins.”

“It is no wonder you find it hard to remember how many you have,” Jean replied.  “It must take a great deal to feed and clothe such a large family.”

“Indeed it does, Miss, an’ that’s why I’m cookin’ here.  I’m not as young as I used to be, so can’t stand heavy work.  But, then, I wouldn’t like to lose one of me little ones.  It ’ud about break the hearts of me an’ me wife.  When we heard about you bein’ carried off in the dead of night, we cried, that’s what we did, an’ went an’ counted all of our little lambs asleep in their beds.”

“So you heard of me, did you?”

“I should say we did, Miss.  Everybody knew about it.  My, I’m glad to see ye safe an’ sound.  I do hope them slashers’ll git what’s comin’ to ’em.  I’d like to be after ’em this very minute.”

“And so would I,” Dane agreed.  “It doesn’t seem right for me to be lying here when I should be out with the mast-cutters.”

“Don’t ye worry about that, young man.  You’ve done yer share all right in givin’ us the warnin’.  An’, besides, look what ye’ve done fer this girl.  I guess if it hadn’t been fer you she’d be layin’ out there in the woods now.  Don’t ye worry.  What ye both need is a good sleep, so I’m goin’ to ask you, Miss, to take my bunk over yon in the corner.  I guess ye’ll find everythin’ in good shape, fer my wife’s a most pertic’ler woman an’ has trained me right.”