see,
I've only got one good leg."

"But what has happened to the other--when, how, and where?" we exclaimed
in chorus.

Macnab answered the questions to our chief, who came forward at the
moment with welcome in his visage and extended hands.

"It's only a cut, sir, stupidly done with my own hatchet when we had
been but a few days out. But rest will soon put me to rights. My poor
man, Big Otter, is more to be pitied than I. But for him I should have
perished in the snow."

"What cheer? what cheer?" said our chief, grasping the Indian's hand on
hearing this.

"What cheer?" we all exclaimed, following his example.

"Watchee! watchee!" echoed Big Otter, returning the hearty salutation as
well as his tongue could manage it, and giving us each a powerful
squeeze with his huge bony hand, which temporary exhaustion had not
appreciably reduced in strength.

The native was obviously a sociable, well-disposed man, for his eyes
glittered and his white teeth gleamed and his bronzed visage shone with
pleasure when Macnab explained the cause of our sudden burst of
affection for him.

Thus chatting and limping we got the Highlander slowly up to the hall,
set him down in our only armchair--a wooden one without stuffing--and
fetched him a basin of hot soup, that being a liquid which our cook had
always more or less frequently on hand.

"Ha! boys!" cried Macnab, smacking his lips, "that's the thing to put
life into a man! I've not had anything like it for many a day. You
see, we had a small misfortune soon after my accident, which cost us our
kettle, and rendered soup or tea impossible."

"How was that?" inquired our chief, sitting down, while we gathered
round the stove to listen.

"Well, you see, sir, not long after my accident, there came a sharp
frost which made the surface of the snow hard after the thaw, so the
dogs could run on the top of the crust without breaking it, but Big
Otter, bein' heavy, broke through--by the way, I hope he's bein' looked
after."

"You may be sure of that," said Spooner. "I saw him safely placed in
the men's house, and Salamander, who, it turns out, is a sort of
relation of his, set to work to stuff him with the same sort of soup you
think so much of. I only hope they've enough to keep him going, for
before I left the house he had drunk off two bowls of it almost without
taking breath, though it was scalding hot."

"Good. He'll do it ample justice," returned Macnab, taking another