“I think we had better take turns watching,” said Henry.—Page [49].
This was easier said than done. The hole was ten or twelve feet deep. The men on the surface of the snow joined hands, and thus held James Morris from falling in as the trader bent over the hole. Looking down, he could see Jones below, spluttering wildly.
“Sa—sa—save me!” were his first words. The man was so chilled that he could do scarcely more than chatter.
“We will,” answered James Morris.
He directed the last man on the line to pass forward a rifle, and he took hold of the barrel of this, while he allowed Peaceful Jones to grasp the stock. Then James Morris began to pull, and Peaceful Jones came up, over the edge of the hole, and was quickly drawn to a place of safety.
The man was so chilled that the others lost no time in building a big fire, in the meantime covering him with a blanket. Then, while he was getting warm, Pomeroy went fishing with a stick and some lines, and after a lot of trouble succeeded in bringing up Jones’s rifle.
“I was a-lookin’ at the deer, an’ didn’t see the hole,” was the explanation the trapper gave of his mishap. “After this I’ll look whar I’m steppin’.”
“Ye had better,” was Pomeroy’s comment. “’Cos it might be as thar wouldn’t be nobuddy around to help ye out ag’in!”
The river left behind, they passed on directly to the region where the first trading post had been located. This was still suffering from the effects of the burn-over, although here and there a few trees and bushes had sprouted out during the past summer.
“It was a fine spot,” said James Morris, as he stood and surveyed the site of the old post. “A fine spot. But it is no good now, and will not be for years to come.”