“Hoots awa’, Aunt, it’s just a wagon.”

“Marjorie, why will you use such vulgar expressions?  Of course, it’s a wagon.  Wha’s—­who’s in it?”

“Indeed, I’m not caring,” said her niece; “they’ll no’ eat us.”

“Marjorie, behave yourself, I’m saying, and speak as you are taught.  Run away for your father.”

“Indeed, Aunt, how could I do this and leave you here by yourself?  A wild Indian might run off with you.”

“Mercy me!  What a lassie!  I’m fair distracted.”

“Oh, Auntie dear,” said Marjorie, with a change of voice, “it is just a man bringing some oats.  Mr. Harris told me he was to get a load this afternoon.  We will need to take them from him.  Have you any money?  We must pay him, I suppose.”

“Money?” cried her Aunt.  “What is the use of money in this country?  No, your father has it all.”

“Why,” suddenly exclaimed her niece, “it’s not the man after all.”

“What man are you talking about?” enquired her Aunt.  “What man is it not?”

“It’s a stranger.  I mean—­it’s—­another man,” said Marjorie, distinct disappointment in her tone.

“Here, who is it, or who is it no’?”

“Oh,” said Marjorie innocently.  “Mr. Harris is expecting that young man who was here this morning,—­the one who saved us from that awful wolf, you know.”

“That man!  The impudent thing that he was,” cried her Aunt.  “Wait till I set my eyes on him.  Indeed, I will not look at any one belonging to him.”  Aunt Janet flounced into the tent, leaving her niece to meet the stranger alone.

“Good afternoon!  Am I right in thinking that this is the engineer’s camp, for which a load of oats was ordered this morning?” Jack French was standing, hat in hand, looking his admiration and perplexity, for Kalman had not told him anything of this girl.

“Yes, this is the camp.  At least, I heard Mr. Harris say he expected a load of oats; but,” she added in slight confusion, “it was from another man, a young man, the man, I mean, who was here this morning.”

“Confusion, indeed!” came a muffled voice from the closed tent.

Jack French glanced quickly around, but saw no one.

“Oh,” said Miss Marjorie, struggling with her laughter, “it’s my Aunt; she was much alarmed this morning.  You see, the wolf and the dogs ran right into her tent.  It was terrible.”

“Terrible, indeed,” said Jack French, with grave politeness.  “I could only get the most incoherent account of the whole matter.  I hope your Aunt was not hurt.”

“Hurt, indeed!” ejaculated a muffled voice.  “It was nearer killed, I was.”

Upon this, Miss Marjorie ran to the tent door.  “Aunt,” she cried, lifting up the flap, “you might as well come out and meet Mr.—­”

“French, Jack French, as I am known in this free country.”

“My Aunt, Miss Menzies.”

“Very happy to meet you, madam.”  Jack’s bow was so inexpressibly elegant that Aunt Janet found herself adopting her most gracious, Glasgow society manner.