"It looks that way now, but you wait until I've fixed things up," said he.

"Then if you feel like walking eight miles I'll go on with you." The girl noticed the swift orderliness of all he did as she watched him take out the horses and tether them, tear down armfuls of cedar-twigs, and then pack them between some flour-bag's and the side of the wagon, over which he stretched a strip of waterproof sheeting.

Then he made a fire, disappeared into the mist, and coming back with the kettle, strode into the bush again.

In the meanwhile Deringham, looking into the wagon, pointed to the twigs.
"Do you think you could sleep there ?" he said.
The girl glanced at the twigs.

They looked soft and springy, and had a pleasant aromatic fragrance, while the covering sheet was thick.
"I know I could not walk eight miles," she said.