Adrian, also, knew that spot, and in a few moments both lads were asleep. They had not stopped even to build the fire that was customary in such quarters.
Pierre was awake first, on the next morning, and Adrian slowly rose, stretching his cramped limbs and yawning widely.
“Well, I must say that Angelique’s good mattress beats rocks. You don’t catch me doing that again. I guess I’ll walk down to the water and have a last look at the island.”
“I guess you won’t. You’ll eat your breakfast right now. Then you’ll fix that birch for the carry. If I do the heavy work you’ve got to do the light.”
“Sounds fair enough, but you’re paid and I’m not.”
Adrian did not contest the point, the less readily because he saw that the fried chicken Angelique had given them was rapidly diminishing in quantity.
“Think I’ll fall-to myself. My, but I’m hungry! Wish I had a cup of coffee.”
“Can’t waste time now. We’ll have some to-night.”
Pierre grinned and helped himself to a wing.
Adrian seized the tin basin which held the fowl and placed it behind himself. “Enough’s as good as a feast. We shall be hungry again. See here. What kind of a bird was this? or birds? all legs and arms, no bodies. Freaks of nature. Eh? How many breast portions have you devoured?”
“Oh! Then, travel or no travel, you get no wage this day. Understand. I’m commander of this expedition. I see to the commissariat. I’ll overhaul the pack, and take account of stock.”
Pierre assisted at the task. Though he had been impatient to get away from that locality, still too dangerously near his mother’s rule, he intended to keep an eye on everything. Paid or not paid, as Adrian fared so would he--only rather better.
“Why, they must have thought we would be in the woods a long time. They were certainly generous.”
They had been, but Pierre considered that they might have been more so.
“Nonsense. But--there. We’re not going to squabble all the time, like children. And we both know exactly what we have to depend on. We must fish and shoot--”
“How’ll you do that? The only gun is mine.”
“It’s part of the outfit. Let’s see. A good little tent cloth--not big enough to cover any but good-natured folks--salt pork, beans, sugar, coffee, tea, flour, meal, dishes. Hello! We’re kings, Ricord! Monarchs of Maine.”