“Mrs. Hildreth, you decide that,” said John. “When you’ve chosen a spot we’ll pile the baskets and things near it, and then I’m going back to the farm to get an armful of wood for the signal-fire. Your forest is too well kept, Babbie. There are no twigs on the ground for the convenience of the ship-wrecked mariner who wants to signal the nearest dwelling for help. It’s a shame.”