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Updated: May 7, 2025
I've gotten mysel' a wee wat." "What's wrang?" asked Daddy, in a feeble voice, as his ancient daughter entered. "It's only a bit spate, Daddy. The hoose is a'maist soomin', but ye've nae need to fear." "I'm no' feared, Liz. What wad I be feared o' whan ye're there?" "Ver is mine boy?" demanded old Mrs Winklemann, looking round. "He's gane to the kirk for floor. Ne'er fash yer heed aboot him.
It is only when he is wounded, or enfeebled by sickness or old age, that his sneaking enemy comes and sits down before him, licking his chops in the hope of a meal. A fat young cow cast a questioning glance at Winklemann as he approached her. He stopped. She turned aside and resumed her feeding.
"Angus Macdonald and his sister," he said, "are well, and with the Ravenshaws, I believe, or at the Little Mountain, their house being considered in danger; but old Liz Rollin," he added, turning to the anxious half-breed, "has been carried away with her hut, nobody knows where. They say that her old father and the mother of Winklemann have gone along with her."
The ropes parted like packthread; the building slewed round, reeled for a moment with a drunken air, caught on a shallow spot, and hung there. "Ach! mine goot old hause farvell!" exclaimed Winklemann, in tones of deepest pathos.
When all was ready the hunter flung himself flat on his face at full length on the sledge, cracked his whip, and away went the dogs at full speed. Herr Winklemann was armed only with bow and arrows, such weapons being most suitable for the work in hand.
"We want no guarantee," interrupted John Flett, "and we have spare horses enough in the camp to mount you without giving up our own; so make your mind easy." "Zat is troo," said Herr Winklemann; "ve has goot horse to spare; buff'lo-runners every von. Bot you mus' stay vid us von day for run ze buff'lo an' git supply of meat."
Has a war party of Sioux come down on us, or is the river about to break up?" "War-parties of Sioux are no doubt prowling about the plains somewhere," returned Lambert, with a smile, "and the ice will go soon if this heat continues; but neither of these things brought me here. The truth is, I came to ask if Winklemann has been seen to pass your windows this morning?"
He told how that the people up the river were being frightened by the rise in the water; how he had met Lambert and Winklemann going to hunt wolves; how these Nimrods had been obliged to change their minds and turn back for the purpose of looking after their property; and, in short, he wandered as far from the subject of beer and brewing as possible.
Hope revived for a moment, and he uttered a feeble shout, but he failed to hear the reply. The canoe happened to float between him and the boat, so that he could not see it as it passed slowly on its course. Poor Winklemann! In searching wildly about the wide expanse of water for his lost mother, he had run his canoe violently against the top rail of a fence.
Winklemann clothed himself in a wolf-skin, to which the ears and part of the head adhered. A small sledge, which may be described as a long thin plank with one end curled up, was brought to him by a hungry-looking squaw. Four dogs were attached to it with miniature harness made to fit them.
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