FisHING THROUGH THE ICcE. 199 

We place the clock ticking away lively in an empty cigar 
box, on the shelf over his head, within two feet of his ear. 
Coming in and hearing it there, he wants to know what for 
and why? and remarks : 
**Do you suppose I want that thing in my ear all night?” 
“Oh, well, Joe, leave it there to please us; it will sing you 
to sleep, and you said we should keep it warm, and that’s the 
south side of camp.” 
*¢ All right, I’ll get used to it I suppose.” 
It was too much fun just for one alone to hear him the next 
morning when the alarm struck up. The clock was a new 
one, and the wide, thin board shelf, with the cigar box, aided 
the circus, and as it rumbled on we began to think it might 
be an eight day alarm. It ended at last, and we heard a deep 
sigh and a sad groan, as Joe reached for the bootjack. Too 
dark to see, he aimed at random, drawing a long breath, 
mixed with ‘*dang you” and such like, but we dove before 
the flash, and escaped. 
‘¢*Ah, yes, I see; warmer on the sunny south side, is it? 
T’ll make the shady north side hot for you when I get out of 
this berth! a regular Fourth of July, my sonny.” 
Feeling a little repentant for waking Joe so early, and pity- 
ing him as he had a cold, I jumped up, lit the lamps, built 
a fire and mixed hima good dose of ‘*.Staxdard Liniment,” 
hot, which immediately brings out his usual good humor. 
Just at daylight we are all ready for the lake and the fish- 
ing ground. Seeing that our fire is all safe and locking the 
camp, we slide our feet securely in the straps of our snow- 
shoes and are off, levelling down another fine path to run 
over and for future use, to easily carry our outfit, that which 
we need to make a day of it; our handiest knapsack is again 
