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O'Dule had cut a window in the cabin, installed an old stove, table and chairs, and succeeded in making the place home-like enough to suit his simple taste. To-night he stood by the stove, frying potatoes and humming an Irish song. On the table lay a loaf of bread and some butter in a saucer, while close beside it a coal oil lamp gave a smoky light to the room. In the center of the table reposed a huge blue-grey cat, its amber eyes on Harry and its forepaws curled contentedly beneath its furry breast. All about the room hung the skins of wild animals—deer, bear, lynx and coon. A pile of skins lay in one corner. This was O'Dule's bed. "All right, I'll do it," said Billy. "Jest turn the lamp down a little, Harry." "Stay all night with Maurice," invited Mrs. Keeler. "You an' him kin pile right into bed now and I'll bring you both a bowl of hot bread and milk.".
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"Only he can't prove it, kin he?" He was already several paces away, anxious to overtake the wagon. Billy stood looking after him, a frown on his brow. "Gibson's Grove," he repeated. "So that's where Gibson's Grove is!" Then the message which the strangers had sent by old Harry might have had some significance, after all. Billy called and she turned to him with a smile. He shook his head. "Not tonight, thanks. You're tired, and I've a long ride before me. Next time I come we'll have tea," he promised as he turned to shake hands with Landon..
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