Like all men who have lived close to Nature, whether in woods or in plains, French had developed a habit of silence, and this habit, as all others, Kalman was rapidly taking on.
As they reclined thus dreamily watching the leaping fire, a canoe came down the river, in the stern of which sat a man whose easy grace proclaimed long practice in the canoeman's art.

As his eyes fell upon the fire, he paused in his paddling, and with two or three swift flips he turned his canoe toward the bank, and landing, pulled it up on the shore.
He was a young man of middle height, stoutly built, and with a strong, good-natured face.
"Good evening," he said in a cheery voice, "camped for the night ?" "Yes, camped for the night," replied French.
"I have a tent up stream a little way.

I should be glad to have you camp with me.

It is going to be a little chilly." "Oh, we're all right, aren't we, Kalman ?" said French.
The boy turned and gave him a quick look of perfect satisfaction.
"First rate! You bet!" "The dew is going to be heavy, though," said the stranger, "and it will be cold before the night is over.

I have not much to offer you, only shelter, but I'd like awfully to have you come.
A visitor is a rare thing here." "Well," said French, "since you put it that way we'll go, and I am sure it is very decent of you." "Not at all.