"An' how did un get out?" asked Bob in open-mouthed wonder.
"'Twere sure a hard fix under th' ice," remarked Bill, equally interested.
"A wonderful hard fix, a wonderful hard fix, under th' ice, an' I were handy t' stayin' under un," said Ed, taking evident delight in keeping his auditors in suspense. "Aye, a wonderful hard fix," continued he, while he hacked pieces from his tobacco plug and filled his pipe.
"An' where were I?" asked Dick, making a quick calculation of past events. "I were huntin' wi' un ten year ago, an' I don't mind ye're gettin' in th' ice."
"'Twere th' winter un were laid up wi' th' lame leg, an' poor Frank Morgan were huntin' along wi' me. Frank were lost th' same spring in th' Bay. Does un mind that?"
"'Twere only nine year ago I were laid up an' Frank were huntin' my trail," said Dick.
"Well, maybe 'twere only nine year; 'twere nine or ten year ago," Ed continued, with some show of impatience at Dick's questioning. "Leastways 'twere thereabouts. Well, I finds myself away off from th' hole I'd dropped into, an' no way o' findin' he. The river were low an' had settled a foot below th' ice, which were four or five feet thick over my head, an' no way o' cuttin' out. So what does I do?"
"An' what does un do?" asked Dick.
"What does I do? I keeps shallow water near th' shore an' holdin' my head betwixt ice an' water makes down t' th' Porcupine Rapids. 'Twere a long an' wearisome pull, an' thinks I, 'Tis too much—un's done for now.' After a time I sees light an' I goes for un. 'Twere a place near a rock where th' water swingin' around had kept th' ice thin. I gets t' un an' makes a footin' on th' rock. I gets out my knife an' finds th' ice breaks easy, an' cuts a hole an' crawls out. By th' time I gets on th' ice I were pretty handy t' givin' up wi' th' cold."
"'Twere a close call," assented Dick, as he puffed at his pipe meditatively.