WILD ANIMALS AND MEN 253 



was excellent, the tea was good, and there we three sat and ate 

 a hearty meal, for not only did we rehsh the food, but the 

 company, the wit, and the laughter, too. But all the while my 

 healthy, jovial, handsome host remained in bed. I studied 

 the blankets that covered his legs — apparently there was 

 nothing wrong with that part of him. I could not fathom the 

 mystery. It completely nonplussed me. 



I glanced round the room; there were many photographs upon 

 the walls, among them Cambridge "eights" and "fours"; and 

 sure enough, there he was, rowing in those very crews; and 

 in the football and tennis pictures he also appeared as one of 

 the best of them all. And how neat and clean was his one- 

 room house! Everything was in order. A water keg be- 

 hind the stove to keep the water from freezing. A big barrel 

 by the door in which to turn snow into water. A woodpile 

 across the end of the room — enough to outlast any blizzard. 

 Then when I glanced at him again, I noticed a crested signet 

 ring upon his left little finger. Breakfast over, smoking be- 

 gan, and as he washed the dishes, I wiped them — but still I 

 pondered. Then, at last, I grew brave. I would risk it. I 

 would ask him : 



"Why do you stay in bed.*^" 



First he responded with a burst of laughter, then with the 

 question: 



"Why, what's the use of getting up.^" and next with the 

 statement: "I stay in bed all winter ... or nearly so. 

 It's the only thing to do. I used to get up, and go for my mail 

 occasionally ... at least, I did a few years ago, but too 

 many times I walked the forty miles to the Hudson's Bay 

 Company's Flying Post at Elbow Creek only to find no letters 

 for me ... so I chucked it all. Then, too, the first 

 few winters I was here I used to do a little shooting, but I get all 

 the game I want from the Indians now, so I have chucked the 

 shooting, too. Now the only thing that gets me out of bed, 



