hurt you," added Jack.

He might as well have been addressing a wooden woman.

"I say, I'm sorry if we hurt you," he repeated louder.

"Maybe she can't understand English," suggested Sam.

"What'll I do then?" asked Jack hopelessly.

"Try her with sign language."

"Sure," said Jack. He looked around for the table. "Oh, hell, it's
burnt up! We'll have to eat on the floor. Hey, look, sister!" He went
through the motions of spreading a table and eating. The others
watched interestedly. "Will you?" he asked.

She gravely nodded her head. A cheer went up from the circle.

"Hey, cookee!" cried Big Jack. "Toss up a bag of biscuits and put your
coffee-pot on. You, Joe, chase out to the stable and fetch a box for
her to sit on."

For the next few minutes the cabin presented a scene of great
activity. Every man, with the tail of an eye on the guest, was anxious
to contribute a share to the preparations. Husky went to the lake for
water; Shand cut bacon and ground coffee for the cook; Big Jack
produced a clean, or fairly clean, white blanket to serve for a
tablecloth, and set the table.

A glitter in each man's eyes suggested that his hospitality was not
entirely disinterested. They were inclined to bristle at each other.
Clearly a dangerous amount of electricity was being stored within the
little shack. Only Sam was as self-contained in his way as the girl in
hers.

Big Jack continued his efforts to communicate with her. He was deluded
by the idea that if he talked a kind of pidgin-English and shouted
loud enough she must understand.

"Me, Big Jack," he explained; "him, Black Shand; him, Husky; him,
Young Joe. You?" He pointed to her questioningly.

"Bela," she said.

It was the first word she had uttered. Her voice was like a strain of
woods music. At the sound of it Sam looked up from his flour. He
quickly dropped his eyes again.

When Joe brought her the box to sit on, he lingered beside her.
Good-looking Young Joe was a boasted conqueror of the sex. The least
able of them all to control his emotions, he was now doing the
outrageously masculine. He strutted, posed, and smirked in a way
highly offensive to the other men.

When, Bela sat down Joe put a hand on her shoulder. Instantly Big
Jack's pale face flamed like an aurora.

"Keep your distance!" he barked. "Do you think the rest of us will
stand for that?"

Joe retreated to the bed, crestfallen and snarling, and things
smoothed down for the moment.