Dan had until now kept silent. Paul’s speech quite dumbfounded him for a moment, but quickly aware that his friend was thoroughly in earnest in the threat, and fearing that he would actually attack the big man, he grabbed Paul’s arm and drew him back. “Don’t strike un, Paul! Don’t strike un!” Dan exclaimed. “’T will do no good. He knows what he says ain’t true, an’ we know it ain’t true. Dad says when a feller knows he’s right, an’ he knows th’ Lord knows he’s right, it don’t matter what folks says or thinks.” Factor MacTavish laughed, and in the laugh was a note of good humor. The defiance of these two lads scarcely reaching to his shoulder amused him, and he could not but admire the display of courage in the face of odds. “Well, you’ve got some spunk, and I like spunk. You may stay over night. It’s snowing, and you’d better go to the men’s house for tonight. We always put up travelers one night. James,” to one of the clerks, “show them the men’s house.” “We won’t stay a single night unless you take back what you said about our being thieves and deserters,” broke in Paul, his defiant attitude unabated. “We’re honest, and we’re not beggars crawling after you.” “I don’t know whether you’re honest or not, or anything about you. You may be what you say you are. Now, if you want to accept a night’s lodging, it’s open to you, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. James, show these boys to the men’s house.” “You say you were wrong in calling us thieves?” insisted Paul. “Perhaps I was. We won’t talk about it now,” and he turned to one of the desks to put an end to the discussion. “We’ll take that for an apology,” said Paul, somewhat mollified. “Thank you.” James, the clerk, introduced them to the men’s house, and presently they had their things under cover, secure from the now heavily falling snow, and ate their supper of cold roast lynx from their own larder, supplemented by a pot of hot tea generously donated by the half-breed Indian cook. CHAPTER XIII WINTER SHELTER AND HARD WORK “Paul,” said Dan, after the half-breed cook who brought them the tea had returned to his preparation of supper, “you’re wonderful brave. I’m thinkin’ now you would have hit th’ master if I hadn’t been interferin’.” “I’m afraid I would, and then he’d have pitched us both out,” admitted Paul. “It wasn’t because I was brave, though, but I was mad all through when he called us thieves. Think of it!” “’T were brave o’ you. I’m thinkin’ you’d fight anything if ’t were called for. But when we gets on th’ ice pan, first off, I were misjudgin’ you; you seemed scared and I were thinkin’ you timid. You’re a rare lot braver ’n me.” “No, I’m not, Dan.” “Yes you is. See th’ way you fit th’ lynx, an’ killed un, too. An’ th’ way you stands up t’ that man is sure wonderful.”