t blazed like a pine-knot fire, and
then the three drank in silence. There was a sort of truce, a silent
but well-understood agreement, that nothing further should be said, but
that, when the truth came out, one should not tell on the other, and
turn the laugh of the camp upon him.

Early the men began to drop in to the Great Whirlpool, the one great
center of this snow-walled world, to ask gently, and with tender concern
in their faces, after the fortunes of the Widow.

It was a great day for the cinnamon-haired little man, and he made the
most of it. Men fell into disputes the moment they arrived, but, as no
one knew any thing, they always settled it with a treat all round, and
then waited for results.

The bar-keeper was appealed to, as bar-keepers, like barbers, are
supposed to know all the news. But this man, like most bar-keepers in
the wilderness, was a cautious man, and said he knew all about it, but
could not take sides or decide between his friends. Time would tell who
was right and who was wrong.

At last the Judge rolled in like a little sea on the shore. He had come
straight down from the Widow's, had gone up to get the truth of the
matter, and had unscrewed Limber Tim from the fence, and made him tell
all he knew of the unhappy lady, and how it happened.

Then the boys backed the little Judge up against the bar, and stood him
there, and read him from top to bottom, as if he had been a bulletin
board.

"Split his foot clean open, you see! Did it while a choppin' wood in the
dark."

"Speck he was a lookin' at the Widder when it happened," half laughed a
big man with a big mouth, and a voice like a Numidian lion.

"The clumsy cuss!"

That is what Oregon Jake said after catching his breath over his tumbler
of Old Tom. And that is all the sympathy that Sandy got after they found
out, as they thought, that he had only split open his foot with an ax.

"The clumsy cuss!"

CHAPTER XIX.

HOW DID IT HAPPEN?

The sun at last shot sharply through the far fir tops tossing over the
savage and sublime mountain crest away to the east, with its battlement
of snow, and Limber Tim was glad at the sight of it, for he was very
cold and stiff, and hungry and thirsty, and tired of his post of honor,
and disgusted with himself for the miserable mistakes he had made that
morning.

He had been standing there like a forlorn and lonesome cock all the
morning on one foot, waiting for the dawn, and now he fair