When he did so, she had risen
and entered the cabin. Disconcerted as he was, he was relieved to see
that her expression of amusement was unchanged. Was her act a piece
of rustic coquetry, or had she resented his advances? Nor did her next
words settle the question.
"Ye kin do yer nice talk and philanderin' after we've settled whar we
are, what we're goin', and what's goin' to happen. Jest now it 'pears
to me that ez these yere logs are the only thing betwixt us and 'kingdom
come,' ye'd better be hustlin' round with a few spikes to clinch 'em to
the floor."
She handed him a hammer and a few spikes. He obediently set to work,
with little confidence, however, in the security of the fastening. There
was neither rope nor chain for lashing the logs together; a stronger
current and a collision with some submerged stump or wreckage would
loosen them and wreck the cabin. But he said nothing. It was the girl
who broke the silence.
"What's your front name?"
"Miles."
"MILES,--that's a funny name.
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