“It is certainly hard luck,” he said, kindly. “You must let me do something for you.”
Then, after his ankle had been bathed in hot water, and bound up, the hunter and traveler told them of his trips to various portions of the globe, and how he had hunted deer and moose in one place, bears and mountain lions in another, and tigers and other wild beasts elsewhere. He had two very interested listeners.
“It must be great!” murmured Chet. “Oh, that would suit me down to the ground—to go out that way!”
“I have made one trip to the north,” continued Barwell Dawson, “and I am soon going to make another.”
“You mean to Canada?” queried Andy.
“Not exactly. I am going to Greenland, and then into the polar regions. I want to hunt seals, polar bears, and musk oxen.”
“You’ll be frozen to death!”
“Hardly,” answered the hunter. “On my previous trip I stood the cold very well, and this time I shall go much better prepared. Somehow, I like hunting in the Arctic Circle better than hunting anywhere else. Besides, I wish to—But never mind that now,” and Barwell Dawson broke off rather abruptly. Then he told a story of a hunt after polar bears that made Chet’s eyes water.
“That’s the stuff!” whispered Chet to Andy. “That beats a deer hunt all hollow!”
“Yes, provided the polar bear doesn’t eat you up.”