As a rule he made these journeys alone, but this winter he had been favoured with a companion in Harry Bronson, the eldest son of a member of the firm, who had asked permission to spend the winter at the "shanties."
His request had been readily granted, for he would have to take his father's place in the business in due time, and the more thoroughly he knew its details the better. Consequently Mr. Bronson was very glad to let him go, while Harry rejoiced at getting away from the confinement of the office, and at the prospect of having some exciting experiences before he returned.
So far he had been having a very good time. John Maynard was as pleasant a companion as he was a competent bush superintendent, and, while going the round of the shanties, there were many chances for shots at partridges or rabbits, and always the exciting possibility of encountering a bear.
Then at the shanties their welcome was always so warm, and the French-Canadian shantymen were so amusing with their exhaustless fund of song and dance and story, that Harry never knew what it was to feel dull for a moment.
Christmas week found him at the shanty on the Opeongo—the one that stood farthest away of all from the depot at which Maynard made his headquarters, and to which it was his intention to return in time to celebrate Christmas there.
The superintendent was particularly anxious to get back by that time, because, having completed a round of the shanties, he could leave them unvisited for a fortnight or so, and he proposed to spend Christmas week in Montreal, where he had many friends.
Harry on his part was hardly less anxious to get to the depot; for, although he did not intend going any further, he had been promised lots of fun there by the clerk in charge, and a first-class Christmas dinner into the bargain.
Accordingly, when certain infallible signs of a change for the worse in the weather, which had hitherto been almost perfect, made their appearance, and Maynard, willing to take any risk himself, but reluctant to expose Harry to danger, suggested that the boy should remain at the Opeongo shanty until the threatened storm passed, and then get back to the depot by one of the ordinary teams, Harry would not hear of it.
"No, no, Mr. Maynard," said he stoutly. "If you can stand the storm, I can too. I'm going with you."
Clearly enough the superintendent would have to either allow Harry to accompany him or stay at the shanty himself. He could not accept the latter alternative, so he replied,—