Under the jokes, the laughter, and the friendly talk throughout dinner,
there were electric intimations that caused Colina's nostrils to
quiver. She loved the smell of danger.

It was no easy matter to keep the conversational bark on an even keel;
the rocks were thick on every hand. Business, politics, and local
affairs were all for obvious reasons tabooed. More than once they were
near an upset, as when they began to talk of Indians.

Ambrose had related the anecdote of Tom Beavertail who, upon seeing a
steamboat for the first time, had made a paddle-wheel for his canoe,
and forced his sons to turn him about the lake.

"Exactly like them!" said John Gaviller with his air of amused scorn.
"Ingenious in perfectly useless ways! Featherheaded as schoolboys!"

"But I like schoolboys!" Ambrose protested. "It isn't so long since I
was one myself."

"Schoolboys is too good a word," said Gaviller. "Say, apes."

"I have a kind of fellow-feeling for them," said Ambrose smiling.

"How long have you been in the north?"

"Two years."

"I've been dealing with them thirty years," said Gaviller with an air
of finality.