"That's what we've got to see about right now. It's an important matter, true enough. For a certain very good reason I couldn't make a real investigation till you got up. You'll see why in a minute. Well, we have a gun at least; you can see it behind the stove. It's an old thing, but it will still shoot. And we've got at least one box of shells for it--and not one of them must be wasted. They mean our meat supply. I'm still wearing my pistol, and I've got two boxes of shells for it in my pocket--it's a small caliber, and there's fifty in each box. There are plenty of blankets and cooking utensils, magazines for idle hours and, Heaven bless us, an old and battered phonograph on the table. Don't scorn it--anything that has to be packed on a horse this far mustn't be scorned. We can have music with our meals, if we like." He stopped and smiled. "There's a cake of soap on the shelf," he went on, after the gorgeous fact of the phonograph had time to sink home, "and another among the supplies--but I'm afraid cold cream and toilet water are lacking. I don't even know how you'll comb your hair." The girl smiled--really with happiness now--and fished in the pockets of a great slicker coat she had worn the night of the disaster. She produced a little white roll, and with the high glee opened it for him to see. Wrapped in a miniature face towel was her comb, a small brush, and a toothbrush! They laughed with delight over the find. "But no mirror?" the man said solemnly. "No. I won't be able to see how I look for weeks--and that's terrible. But where are your food supplies? I see those sacks hanging from the ceiling--but they certainly haven't enough to keep us alive. And there's nothing else that I can see." "We'd have a hard time, if we had to depend on the contents of those sacks. Miss Tremont, can you cook?" "Cook? Good Heavens--I never have. But I can learn, I suppose." "You'd better learn. It will help pass away the time. I'll be busy getting meat and keeping the fires high, among other things." "But what is there to cook?" He walked, with some triumph, to the bunk on which she had slept the night before, and lifting it up, revealed a great box beneath. She understood, now, why he had not been able to make a previous investigation. They danced with joy at its contents,--bags of rice and beans, dried apples, marmalade and canned goods, enough for some weeks at least. Best of all, from Bill's point of view, there were a few aged and ripened plugs of tobacco, for cutting up for his pipe. "The one thing we haven't got is meat," Bill told her, "except a little jerky; but there's plenty of that in the woods if we can just find it. And I don't intend to delay about that. If the snow gets much deeper, we'd have to have snowshoes to hunt at all." "You mean--to go hunting to-day?" "As soon as we can stir up a meal. How would pancakes taste?" "Glorious! I'll cook breakfast myself."