ou find I ain't doin' my share o' the work because o' the booze
or when you catch me drunk,--I'll quit it. Good-night, George."

I wished him good-night gruffly, hurried over the beach, scrambled into
the boat and rowed quickly for my new home.

And, as I stood on the veranda for a long time before turning in, I
watched the moon rise and skim her way behind and above the clouds,
throwing, as she did so, great dark shadows and eerie lights on the sea.

In the vast, awesome stillness of the forest behind and the swishing
and shuffling of the incoming tide on the shingles on the beach, I
thought of what my good friend, K. B. Horsfal, had quoted:

"Where every prospect pleases and only man is vile."

CHAPTER X

Rita of the Spanish Song

Next morning I was awakened bright and early by the singing of birds.
For a few moments I imagined myself back in England; but the ceaseless
beat of the sea and the sustained, woody-toned, chattering, chirruping
squeak of an angry squirrel on my roof gave me my proper location.

I had heard once, in a London drawing-room, that there were no singing
birds in British Columbia; that the songsters of the East were unable
to get across the high, eternal cold and snow of the Rockies. What a
fallacy! They were everywhere around me, and in thousands. How they
got there was of little moment to me. They were there, much to my joy;
and the forests at my back door were alive with the sweetness of their
melodies.

Early as I was, I could see a thin column of smoke rising from the cove
where Jake was. When I went to the woodpile at the rear of my
bungalow, I found more evidence of his early morning diligence. A heap
of dry, freshly cut kindling was set out, while the chickens had
already been fed and let out to wander at their own sweet wills.

For the first time in my very ordinary life, I investigated the
eccentricities of a cook stove, overcame them and cooked myself a
rousing breakfast of porridge and bacon and eggs with toast. How proud
I felt of my achievement and how delicious the food tasted! Never had
woman cooked porridge and bacon and eggs to such a delightful turn.

I laughed joyously, for I felt sure I had stumbled across an important
truth that woman had religiously kept from the average man throughout
all the bygone ages: the truth that any man, if he only sets his mind
to it, can cook a meal perfectly satisfactory to himself.

After washing up the breakfast dish