“‘John,’ I said, as we drew near to the half-way cabin, ‘I know your blood, and it’s all very well to be careful not to say too much; but there’s such a thing as saying too little. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going when you started for that pole?’
“‘Huh!’ said John, as if his faithfulness to me in every fortune were quite beyond suspicion.
“‘Yes, I know,’ I insisted, ‘but a word or two would have saved me a deal of uneasiness.’
“‘Huh!’ said he.”
CHAPTER XXI
In Which a Bearer of Tidings Finds Himself In Peril of His Life On a Ledge of Ice Above a Roaring Rapid
“We passed that night at the cabin, where a roaring fire warmed me and dried my clothes,” David’s friend continued. “My packet of letters was safe and dry, so I slept in peace, and we were both as chirpy as sparrows when we set out the next morning. It was a clear, still day, with the sun falling warmly upon us.
“Our way now led through the bush for mile after mile––little hills and stony ground and swamp-land. By noon we were wet to the knees; but this circumstance was then too insignificant for remark, although later it gave me the narrowest chance for life that ever came within my experience.