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We're aboot to draw the seine-net, ye see, an' Tonald Pane said it would be a peety, says he, to begin when ye wur awa', an' Muster Lumley agreet wi' um, an' sent me oot to seek for 'ee that's a'." "Come along then, Dougall, we won't keep them waiting." Nodding adieu to Waboose, I hurried away towards Fort Wichikagan, followed by the sturdy Highlander.
Donald Bane and James Dougall, having finished their fortress in the centre of the open lawn, as already described, returned to their fire, which, it may be remembered, was kindled close to the edge of the bushes. There they cooked some food and devoured it with the gusto of men who had well earned their supper. Thereafter, as a matter of course, they proceeded to enjoy a pipe.
"Monsieur has been lost and nearly frozen, and Monsieur would surely have been quite frozen if James Dougall had not discovered that Monsieur had left his fire-bag at home, by mistake no doubt; we at once set out to search for Monsieur, and we found him with his head in the snow and his feet in the air.
After a few turns over on the lawn, the three men regained their footing, and made their way back to the house, while the stream, subsiding almost immediately, left us in peace to make the best of what James Dougall called a paad chob!
"It is quite new to hev you agreein' with me so much, Shames," returned Bane with another yawn. "You are right. An' it is more lively to disagree, whatever," rejoined Dougall, with an irresistible, because sympathetic, yawn. "Oo ay, that's true, Shames. Yie-a-ou!" This yawn was so effusive that Dougall, refusing to be led even by sympathy, yawned internally with his lips closed and swallowed it.
"Tonald," said Dougall, sitting down and lighting his pipe after we were gone, "I wass vera near givin' Muster Lumley a cood threshin'." "Hum! it's well ye didn't try, Shames." "An' what for no?" "Because he's more nor a match for ye." "I don't know that Tonald. I'm as stout a man as he is, whatever." "Oo ay, so ye are, Shames; but ye're no a match for him.
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