"He hasn't come back from New Year's at Fort Smith." The door had no lock or bolt, and they entered.

It was yet too dark for them to see distinctly, and DeBar struck a match.

On the table was a tin oil lamp, which he lighted.

It revealed a neatly kept interior about a dozen feet square, with two bunks, several chairs, a table, and a sheet iron stove behind which was piled a supply of wood.

DeBar pointed to a shelf on which were a number of tin boxes, their covers weighted down by chunks of wood.
"Grub!" he said.
And Philip, pointing to the wood, added, "Fire--fire and grub." There was something in his voice which the other could not fail to understand, and there was an uncomfortable silence as Philip put fuel into the stove and DeBar searched among the food cans.
"Here's bannock and cooked meat--frozen," he said, "and beans." He placed tins of each on the stove and then sat down beside the roaring fire, which was already beginning to diffuse a heat.