credibly short time the tent was warm and snug as any house. Ed left
the open fire and joined Bob and Bill, and in a few minutes Dick came
in with an armful of wood.

"Well, un had a good wettin' an' a cold souse," said he, as he piled
the wood neatly behind the stove, addressing himself to Ed, who, now
quite recovered from his chill, stood with his back to the stove,
puffing contentedly at his pipe, with the steam pouring out of his wet
clothes.

"'Twere just a fine time wi' th' dip I had ten year ago th' winter
comin'," said Ed, ruminatively. "'Twere _nothin'_ to that un."

"An' where were that?" asked Dick.

"I were out o' tea in March, an' handy to havin' no tobaccy, an' I
says t' myself, 'Ed, ye can't stay in th' bush till th' break up wi'
nary a bit o' tea, and ye'd die wi'out tobaccy. Now ye got t' make th'
cruise t' th' Post.' Well, I fixes up my traps, an' packs grub for a
week on my flat sled (toboggan) an' off I goes. 'Twere fair goin' wi'
good hard footin' an' I makes fine time. Below th' Gull Rapids, just
above where I come ashore th' day, I takes t' th' ice thinkin' un
good, an' 'twere lucky I has my racquets lashed on th' flat sled an'
not walkin' wi' un, for I never could a swum wi' un on. Two fathoms
from th' shore I steps on bad ice an' in I goes, head an' all, an' th'
current snatches me off'n my feet an' carries me under th' ice, an'
afore I knows un I finds th' water carryin' me along as fast as a deer
when he gets th' wind."

"An' how did un get out?" asked Bob in open-mouthed wonder.

"'Twere sure a hard fix _under_ th' ice," remarked Bill, equally
interested.

"A wonderful hard fix, a _wonderful_ hard fix, _under_ th' ice, an' I
were handy t' stayin' under un," said Ed, taking evident delight in
keeping his auditors in suspense. "Aye, a _wonderful_ hard fix,"
continued he, while he hacked pieces from his tobacco plug and filled
his pipe.

"An' where were I?" asked Dick, making a quick calculation of past
events. "I were huntin' wi' un ten year ago, an' I don't mind ye're
gettin' in th' ice."

"'Twere th' winter un were laid up wi' th' lame leg, an' poor Frank
Morgan were huntin' along wi' me. Frank were lost th' same spring in
th' Bay. Does un mind that?"

"'Twere only _nine_ year ago I were laid up an' Frank were huntin' my
trail," said Dick.

"Well, maybe 'twere only nine year; 'twere _nine_ or _ten_ year ago,"
Ed continued, with some show of impatience at Dick's questioning.
"L