The earth floor was beaten smooth and sprinkled with pine-sprays that gave out an aromatic smell; a bed had been cleverly made of thin branches and packed twigs.

Her blankets were neatly folded and the small canvas bucket was filled.

All she was likely to need was ready, and the boxes that had held her outfit were arranged to make a seat and wash-stand.

She felt grateful for this thought for her comfort, and putting out the miner's lamp, sat down on the twig-bed and hooked the canvas door back.
Although there was no moon, she could distinguish the black pine-trunks across the river, the lines of foam where the current broke upon the reefs, and the canoes drawn up on the bank.

Thirlwell and his _Metis_ packers had gone, and as hers was the only tent she wondered where they slept.