I've known men to get badly turned round right in this
same country. Well, sit up and eat a bite."
She had to be satisfied with his assurance that he would see her to
Cariboo Meadows. And, accepting the situation with what philosophy she
could command, Hazel proceeded to fall to--and soon discovered herself
relishing the food more than any meal she had eaten for a long time.
Hunger is the king of appetizers, and food cooked in the open has a
flavor of its own which no aproned chef can duplicate. Roaring Bill
put half the piece of meat on her plate, sliced bread for her, and set
the butter handy. Also, he poured her a cup of coffee. He had a small
sack of sugar, and his pack boxes yielded condensed milk.
"Maybe you'd rather have tea," he said. "I didn't think to ask you.
Most Canadians don't drink anything else."
"No, thanks. I like coffee," Hazel replied.
"You're not a true-blue Canuck, then," Bill observed.
"Indeed, I am," she declared. "Aren't you a Canadian?"
"Well, I don't know that the mere accident of birth in come particular
locality makes any difference," he answered. "But I'm a lot shy of
being a Canadian, though I've been in this country a long time.
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