“‘“Why—why”—Calleck gasps—“I—I took ye for—for a bear.”
“‘“Same here,” says I; “only vicy versy. And what you want to go pantin’ like one for?”
“‘“It’s the—the asthmy,” says he. “And what for do you go—go traipsin’ ’round with—with that mess o’ shawl disguisin’ the human figger?”
“‘I stuck out my bleedin’ hand. “Anyhow, I ain’t grown claws,” says I.
“‘“Huh! neither have I,” says he, and shows what he’s carryin’. And it’s a little rake he uses to dig for his roots.’
“And that,” Lon concluded, “is old Wallowby’s own yarn o’ the biggest bear fight that ever was pulled off in these parts, I guess.”
There was a roar of applause and laughter, led by the cheery boss of the camp; even Tom Orkney was grinning. Sam sent a grateful glance at the breaker of the social ice. And then, as Mr. Kane prepared to match one bear story with another, he saw Peter Groche get upon his feet and lounge clumsily to the door.
CHAPTER XXIV
PETER GROCHE SCORES AGAIN
Sam had found his bunk-bed of spruce boughs amazingly comfortable and, snuggling under the blankets, had promptly dropped asleep. He was healthily tired from his day’s travels; it was odd, therefore, that distressing dreams came to disturb his rest. He began to toss and turn, and writhe and groan. A giant’s hand, clutching at his throat, seemed to be about to strangle him. There was a crushing weight upon his chest; a trip-hammer was beating furiously in his head. Then some vague monster had seized him, and was bearing him away with appalling speed.
The boy cried out in terror, and struggled desperately. Of a sudden he was free of the monster’s grasp; he was falling from a dizzy height, and about to be dashed to pieces. And then, just as destruction impended, the dream passed, and he awoke to a reality sufficiently perilous.