“He took the hatchet,” Slim resumed, “and broke open the cask of nails. The next time a paw came under he drove a nail through it, fastening it to the ice. He did this to the next and the next, until there was a circle of paws under the hogshead. Then he chopped off the paws and the wolves limped away howling.
“Then he slid the hogshead along to a smooth place in the ice, and did the same thing all over again. There seemed to be no end of wolves, and he kept moving on from place to place till all his nails were used up.
“At last, he didn’t hear any more noise, and, lifting up the edge of the hogshead, he saw that it was morning, and all the wolves were gone. He got out, and made his way on foot to the cabin, where he found that the horses had got home safe, and his friend was just setting out to look for him. They went back together and counted the paws, and there were just—”
He paused a moment.
“How many?” asked Billy Burton.
“Seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-six,” said Slim impressively. Then, as the boys gasped, “seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-six,” he repeated firmly.
They rose to smite him.
“Of all the yarn spinners this side of kingdom come!” burst out Ned Wayland.
“There you go,” protested Slim plaintively, “you’re always pickin’ on me.
“It does seem quite a lot,” he admitted judicially, “but if it wasn’t true, why should they give those exact figures, seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-six? It shows they were conscientious and careful. Now, a liar might have said eight thousand and let it go at that. He might have—”