A CLOSE CALL
As I ran off on the trail, I seemed to take a fresh lease of life, for it seemed as if I had nearly lost my grip of it a few minutes since.
I reached Mr. Woolsey's just as he was sitting down to lunch, and he was so glad to see me that he would not hear of my going back that afternoon.
A few Indians had come and gone, and from these Mr. Woolsey had secured some dried meat, which to me was a great treat after so much fish.
We were becoming fast friends, this old bachelor missionary and myself, for while he was anything but a pioneer, and altogether out of place in this wild country, yet he was thoroughly good, and as full of the milk of "human kindness" as men are ever made.
Early the next morning I was away with the rope, and by night Neils and I had overhauled several of our nets and put some fresh ones in their place.
And now winter set in, with no snow, but extreme cold, which soon thickened the ice, and Neils and I gave our spare time to making a couple of toboggans, for we purposed when we did go home, to take loads of fish with us.
As the ice made, the fish went away, and soon our fishing was over for that time. We had put up about three thousand, and lived almost entirely on fish; the livers of some dog-fish we occasionally caught being our only change, except a very few fish-ducks, which were hardly a change. We had also fattened the ten dogs ready for winter work. This was no small item.