Early the men began to drop in to the Great Whirlpool, the one great center of this snow-walled world, to ask gently, and with tender concern in their faces, after the fortunes of the Widow.
It was a great day for the cinnamon-haired little man, and he made the most of it. Men fell into disputes the moment they arrived, but, as no one knew any thing, they always settled it with a treat all round, and then waited for results.
The bar-keeper was appealed to, as bar-keepers, like barbers, are supposed to know all the news. But this man, like most bar-keepers in the wilderness, was a cautious man, and said he knew all about it, but could not take sides or decide between his friends. Time would tell who was right and who was wrong.
At last the Judge rolled in like a little sea on the shore. He had come straight down from the Widow's, had gone up to get the truth of the matter, and had unscrewed Limber Tim from the fence, and made him tell all he knew of the unhappy lady, and how it happened.
Then the boys backed the little Judge up against the bar, and stood him there, and read him from top to bottom, as if he had been a bulletin board.
"Split his foot clean open, you see! Did it while a choppin' wood in the dark."
"Speck he was a lookin' at the Widder when it happened," half laughed a big man with a big mouth, and a voice like a Numidian lion.
"The clumsy cuss!"
That is what Oregon Jake said after catching his breath over his tumbler of Old Tom. And that is all the sympathy that Sandy got after they found out, as they thought, that he had only split open his foot with an ax.
"The clumsy cuss!"