THE MANAGEK LOST: A MAETYR. 141 



this the guide rehited to us as we rubbed our eyes after our 

 first sleep in camp for tlie trip; and then, since breakfast 

 was only possible to us at Little Rapids, we tumbled into 

 our l)oats and proceeded thither as speedily as possible. 



Hastily crossing the carry there, of only a quarter of a 

 mile, we came upon the Manager, sitting on a log, in all 

 the solitary grandeur of a martyr,— with blotched face and 

 hands, a red handkerchief about his neck, with eyes sug- 

 gestive of a night of highly-seasoned social festivity, and 

 as solemn as an owl. 



"How are you, anyway? "' 

 " Glad to tind you safe and sound!'* 

 " Thought you were lost, or drowned!" 

 "Might as well have been," replied the Manager to our 

 varied salutations;—''! didn't sleep a wink, and I was 

 eold,— and as soon as the sun was up this morning the black 

 flies pounced on me as if it was their last chance. See my 

 face V— and my hands? I'm about eaten up.— Oh, you may 

 think it's fun to get lost, without a blanket, and sleep in 



perdition and wake up in " 



"Torment, I suspect you mean," politely suggested the 

 Judge; " still, you come out pretty well, considering what 

 might have happened." 



"Trust a newspaper man to strike on his feet every 

 time! " triumphantly added the Editor, who, however, had 

 been slightly angry, the night before, at the intimation that 

 his "snakes" were hypothetical. 



Our breakfast was speedily got ready and set before us. 

 The Manager had not in the least exaggerated the facts as 



