6 WILD BROTHER 
ears numb with the biting frost, I reluctantly 
picked up my suit-case and camera material, and 
trudged along through the snow to the village inn, 
luckily not very far away. The door was locked, 
but a light shining through a side window showed 
that someone was stirring inside. Through the 
frost-coated glass I caught a glimpse of a freckle- 
faced, tousle-headed boy, busily engaged in sweep- 
ing the office floor. A knock on the window-pane 
and a shout soon brought him to the door. 
“Why, Mr. Underwood !”’ he exclaimed in aston- 
ishment, as he saw me kicking my frozen toes on the 
door-sill. ““We warn’t expectin’ you this mornin’.” 
“Did n’t you get my telegram saying I was com- 
ing to-day?” I asked. 
“Yep,” he drawled, “we got your dispatch, but 
yer letter come the day after and yer letter said 
yer would n’t be here till the day after to-morrow, 
and yer see that ain’t to-day. But come on in and 
git warm,” he added. “Breakfast’ll be ready by 
half-past six.” 
It was then half-past five. The big balloon- 
shaped corrugated stove shone red with heat. I sat 
down within its warm glow and, leaning back in 
my chair, with my feet on the encircling iron 
fender, I was soon dull with drowsy comfort, pleas- 
antly dreaming of the little bear in the warm 
lumber-camp. 
