French was still sleeping heavily.

Mackenzie was eating breakfast, with a bottle beside him on the table.
"You will find a basin on the bench outside," observed Mackenzie, pointing to the open door.
When Kalman returned from his ablutions, the bottle had vanished, and Mackenzie, with breath redolent of its contents, had ready for him a plate of porridge, to which he added black molasses.

This, with toasted bannock, the remains of the cold duck of the night before, and strong black tea, constituted his breakfast.
Kalman hurried through his meal, for he hated to meet French as he woke from his sleep.
"Will he not take breakfast ?" said the boy as he rose from the table.
"No, not him, nor denner either, like as not.

It iss a good thing he has a man to look after the place," said Mackenzie with the pride of conscious fidelity.

"We will just be going on with the oats and the pitaties.