“Take it to the lake and fill it,” I told him. “We’ll keep it near the fire, so it won’t freeze.”

While he was gone, I located the coffee pot. We would put it on the stove, to provide moisture in the air and a constant supply of hot water.

Tim came back with some water, and I filled the coffee pot, then added some more to the pea soup which was cooking down. “Is there coal oil outside for the lamp?”

“I didn’t see any,” Tim said. “But there’s a shed I didn’t check.”

“Go check it. We don’t want to burn up all of the man’s fuel for his lamp.”

While he was doing that, I opened one of the cans of milk. It was half frozen. I made a mental note to heat any cans near the fire before opening them, although if we kept the cabin warm they should all thaw gradually. I was able to shake out enough milk to mix with water, however, and I put half of the white liquid aside for gravy and mixed the rest with some flour into which I had crumbled a bit of yeast. I rolled the dough out until it was tough and rubbery, and then pounded it several times and put it near the stove to rise.

I took the strips of cooked turkey and put them in the milk mixture. While they were soaking, I put some lard in the big frying pan and set it on top of the stove. Soon the air was filled with the pungent aroma of hot grease.

Tim came in and said, excitedly, “You’ll never guess what’s in that shed!”

“Coal oil?”

“Gallons. A big drum so heavy I can’t budge it. But there’s snow shoes and all kinds of winter stuff. Ice runners. He must bring his supplies over the lake in the wintertime, by sled.”

“We will ask him when he returns. But surely that’s not why you’re so excited.”

He shook his head. “There’s a big buck hanging there. He’s frozen stiff, but except for the heart and liver, which have been taken, he’s completely whole. There must be a hundred pounds of meat there. And there are boxes of vegetables, down in a hole and covered with sod. Turnips and potatoes and onions.”

Potatoes! Onions! I am able to live without ever seeing another turnip, but that is a matter of taste. I told Tim to get us two large potatoes and a big onion. What a feast we would have! I hoped the trapper would return just as it was ready. What better demonstration of our gratitude than to serve him a piping hot meal as fine as he could get in any restaurant?