"They will do very well where
they are."
In the cabin, which had never seemed more cheerful and comfortable, the
lads helped the new-comer remove his fur garments, plied him with hot
tea, together with everything they could think of in the way of
eatables, and at the same time told him their story as they had told it
to their other guest of the night before.
"And you did not send me any message?" he asked, with a quizzical smile.
"I know!" cried Cabot. "It was the man-wolf. But where did you meet
him, and why didn't he come back with you? How did he manage to
explain the situation? We thought he couldn't talk."
"I don't know that he can," replied the missionary, "for I have never
heard him speak, nor do I know any one who has. Neither did I meet
him. In fact I have never seen him, but I think your messenger must be
one and the same with your man-wolf, since he signed his note
'Homolupus.'"
"His note," repeated Cabot curiously. "Did he send you a note?"
"Not exactly; but he left one for me at a place near the station, where
he has often left furs to be exchanged for goods, and called my
attention to it by a signal of rifle shots. When I reached the place I
was not surprised to find him gone, for he always disappears when it is
certain that his signal has been understood. I was, however, greatly
surprised to find, instead of the usual bundle of furs, only a slip of
paper supported by a cleft stick.
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