“Who can it be?” exclaimed Lumley, as he hastened out to meet the new arrivals.
“A sick man from somewhere,” suggested Spooner.
“Perhaps the governor,” said I, “on an unexpected tour of inspection.”
As we drew near we could see that the recumbent figure waved a hand and cheered.
“Macnab,” said I, as the familiar voice struck my ear.
“Ill—dying!” gasped the anxious Spooner.
“No dying man ever cheered like that!” cried Lumley, “except a hero of romance in the hour of death and victory!”
A few seconds more and the matter was put at rest, while we warmly shook the hearty and genial Highlander by both hands.
“Help me out, boys,” he said; “I’m tired o’ this sled, and think I can do the little remaining bit o’ the journey on foot with your help.”
We disentangled him from the sledge and set him on his feet.