LETTER XIX. 229 



where, leaving me for 'just one more day.' And it 

 was well it was so, for when we stood by the ' half- 

 mile crik/ the moon was well up and the night 

 well advanced. To cross the ' crik,' which was 

 forty or fifty feet wide, we had felled some small 

 trees and made with them a platform over the 

 ice, which swayed unpleasantly as the trees bent 

 under Jocko's weight. As I crossed after him 

 the principal tree smashed in the middle, and 

 before I knew where I was, I was up to my 

 armpits in the icy flood. A cat could not have 

 got out quicker than I did, but for a moment 

 I felt as if the chill had stopped my heart 

 beating. Tired as I was, Jocko and I raced 

 over the logs and snow between the creek and 

 the shanty until, utterly exhausted, I threw my- 

 self down by the blazing logs, and let the boy 

 divest me of what remained of my hard-frozen 

 overalls. 



Next morning I walked back to the town, 

 starting at early dawn and getting in about 3 p.m., 

 as quaint a sight as any hunter ever presented. 

 The overalls, which were originally of stout red 

 canvas, consisted now of a waistbelt, short gaiters 

 with fringed edges the connection between the 

 aforesaid points being maintained by an exceed- 

 ingly choice pair of flannel pyjamas of the 

 brightest cerulean blue. It speaks volumes for 



