'I do not think so.'

'Don't you?' said old Fog in a disappointed tone. 'Well, I suppose I
am foolish about her; we live here all alone, you see: my sister
brought her up.'

'The Aunt Shadow who has gone away?'

'Yes; she was my sister, and--and she went away last year,' said the
old man. 'Have a pipe?'

'I should think you would find it hard work to live here.'

'I do; but a poor man cannot choose. I hunt, fish, and get out a few
furs sometimes; I traffic with the Beaver people now and then. I
bought all this furniture in that way; you would not think it, but
they have a great many nice things down at Beaver.'

'It looks like steamboat furniture.'

'That is it; it is. A steamer went to pieces down there, and they
saved almost all her furniture and stores; they are very good sailors,
the Beavers.'

'Wreckers, perhaps?'

'Well I would not like to say that; you know we do have terrible
storms on these waters. And then there is the fog; this part of Lake
Michigan is foggy half the time, why, I never could guess: but twelve
hours out the twenty-four the gray mist lies on the water here and