LINDSTROM GETS UP 289 



know his voice I know him at home. He was always 

 an early bird. A frightful crash! That's Lindstrom 

 slipping out of his bunk. But if he was late in turning 

 out, it did not take him long to get into his clothes. 

 One! two! three! and there he stood in the doorway, 

 with a little lamp in his hand. It was now six o'clock. 

 He looked well ; round and fat, as when I saw him last. 

 He is in dark blue clothes, with a knitted helmet over 

 his head. I should like to know why; it is certainly 

 not cold in here. For that matter, I have often felt it 

 colder in kitchens at home in the winter, so that cannot 

 be the reason. Oh, I have it! He is bald, and doesn't 

 like to show it. That is often the way with bald men; 

 they hate anyone seeing it. The first thing he does is 

 to lay the fire. The range is under the window, and 

 takes up half the 6 feet by 13 feet kitchen. His 

 method of laying a fire is the first thing that attracts 

 my attention. At home we generally begin by splitting 

 sticks and laying the wood in very carefully. But 

 Lindstrom just shoves the wood in anyhow, all over 

 the place. Well, if he can make that burn, he's clever. 

 I am still wondering how he will manage it, when he 

 suddenly stoops down and picks up a can. Without 

 the slightest hesitation, as though it were the most 

 natural thing in the world, he pours paraffin over the 

 wood. Not one or two drops oh no; he throws on 

 enough to make sure. A match and then I under- 

 stood how Lindstrom got it to light. It was smartly 



VOL. I. 19 



