After that he fell again into his stolid silence.

From the bear skins he produced a kettle, filled it with snow, and hung it over the pile of fagots to which Philip was touching a match.

Philip's tea pail he employed in the same way.
"How far have we come, Bram ?" Philip asked.
"Fift' mile, m'sieu," answered Bram without hesitation.
"And how much farther have we to go ?" Bram grunted.

His face became more stolid.

In his hand he was holding the big knife with which he cut the caribou meat.