'We did. After that, we faithfully went out hunting and trapping as long as daylight lasted, and then, after supper, we built up huge fires of pine logs, and went to work on the next house. It was a strange picture; the forest deep in snow, black with night, the red glow of the great fires, and our moving figures working on as complacently as though daylight, balmy air, and the best of tools were ours. 'The Lady liked our industry. She said our new houses showed that the "new cleanliness of our inner man required a cleaner tabernacle for the outer." I don't know about our inner man, but our outer was certainly much cleaner. 'One day the Flying Dutchman made one of his unfortunate remarks. "De boys t'inks you'll like dem better in nize houses," he announced when, happening to pass the fortress, he found the Lady standing at her gate gazing at the work of the preceding night. Several of the men were near enough to hear him, but too far off to kick him into silence as usual; but they glared at him instead. The Lady looked at the speaker with her dreamy, far-off eyes. '"De boys t'inks you like dem," began the Dutchman again, thinking she did not comprehend; but at that instant he caught the combined glare of the six eyes, and stopped abruptly, not all knowing what was wrong, but sure there was something. '"Like them," repeated the Lady, dreamily; "yea I do like them. Nay, more, I love them. Their souls are as dear to me as the souls of brothers." 'Say, Frenchy, have you got a sister?' said Nightingale Jack, confidentially, that evening. 'Mais oui,' said Frenchy. 'You think all creation of her, I suppose?' 'We fight like four cats and one dog; _she_ is the cats,' said the Frenchman concisely. 'You don't say so!' replied Jack. 'Now, I never had a sister,--but I thought perhaps--' He paused, and the sentence remained unfinished. 'The Nightingale and I were housemates. We sat late over our fire not long after that; I gave a gigantic yawn. 'This lifting logs half the night is enough to kill one,' I said, getting out my jug. Sing something, Jack. It's a long time since I've heard anything but hymns.' 'Jack always went off as easily as a music-box: you only had to wind him up; the jug was the key. I soon had him in full blast. He was giving out 'The minute gun at sea,--the minute gun at sea,' with all the pathos of his tenor voice, when the door burst open and the whole population rushed in upon us. 'What do you mean by shouting thes way, in the middle of the night?' 'Shut up your howling, Jack.' 'How do you suppose any one can sleep?' 'It's a disgrace to the camp!' 'Now then, gentlemen,' I replied, for my blood was up (whiskey, perhaps), 'is this my house, or isn't it? If I want music, I'll have it. Time was when you were not so particular.' 'It was the first word of rebellion. The men looked at each other, then at me. 'I'll go and ask her if she objects,' I continued, boldly. 'No, no. You shall not.'