The Big Otter | Page 4

which case the perfect working of the half-paralysed machine can
scarcely be looked for. Hold your head to the fire, and thaw it while I
expound this to you."
"Stay," said I, holding out my tin pannikin for more tea; "inward heat
as well as outward is necessary to my thorough comprehension of your
expositions."
"True, Max, all the faculties of such mind as you possess, in their most
active condition, are required to enable you to take in the simplest
proposition. Just give my bird a turn, like a good fellow."
He referred to a ptarmigan which, plucked, split open, roughly cleaned,
and impaled on a stick, was roasting in front of the fire. I turned his

bird and my own, while he continued:--
"To gratify the appetite with thorough and hearty appreciation after
working hard for your food, or walking far to find it, is not gross.
Grossness consists in eating heavily when you have not toiled, and
stimulating with fire-water, pepper, or mustard, your sluggish appetite.
To call me a gross creature, then--"
He stopped short, and, looking up, performed that operation with the
nose which is styled sniffing.
"What do I smell?"
"My bird--burnt!" I shouted, snatching at the stick on which it was
impaled. In doing so I capsized our can of tea. Lumley looked at it with
a sigh, while I regarded with a groan the breast of my bird burnt to a
cinder.
"Max, you should remember that a fire strong enough to subdue forty
degrees below zero is intense--also, that our supply of tea is limited. All
this comes of your unwisely calling me a gross creature."
"No, it comes of the intense application of my unthawed intellect to
your absurd expositions."
"Whatever it comes of," returned Lumley, "we must remedy the evil.
Here, fall upon my ptarmigan. I'm not quite ready for it, being still
engaged with the pemmican. Meanwhile, I'll replenish the kettle."
So saying, he took up the kettle, went to the margin of our hole, and
filled it with fresh snow well pressed down. This being put on the fire,
soon melted; more snow was added, till water enough was procured,
and then fresh tea was put in to boil. We were not particular, you see,
as to the mode of infusion. While my friend was thus engaged, I had
plucked, split, cleansed and impaled another bird. In a marvellously
short time--for our fire was truly intense--the tea and ptarmigan were
ready, and we proceeded with supper as comfortably as before.

"Now I shall continue," said Lumley, with a satisfied clearing of the
throat, "the exposition of grossness,--"
"Oh, pray spare me that," said I, quickly, "but tell me, if you can, why
it is that such a tremendous fire as that does not melt our snow walls."
"Put your head nearer to it, Max, for some of the phrenological
chambers must still be frozen, else it would be clear to you that the
intensity of the cold is the reason. You see that only a small part of the
snow quite close to the fire is a little softened. If the fire were hotter it
would melt more of it--melt the whole hole and us too. But the cold is
so great that it keeps the walls cool and us also--too cool indeed, for
while my face and knees are roasting my back is freezing, so I shall rise
and give it a turn. Now," he continued, rising and turning his back to
the blaze as he spoke, "I will resume my remarks on gross--"
"You've no objection to my making our bed while you lecture?" said I,
also rising.
Lumley had not the least objection, so, while he held forth, I spread a
large green blanket over our carpet of pine-brush. A bundle of the same
under the blanket formed a pretty good pillow. Wrapping myself tightly
round in another blanket (for physical heat evaporates quickly in the
frozen regions) I lay down. My friend lay down beside me, our feet
being towards the fire.
After a silent interval, while lying thus, gazing up through the
overhanging branches at the stars that twinkled in the clear frosty sky,
our thoughts became more serious. The grandeur of creation led us to
think and speak of the Creator--for we were like-minded friends, and
no subject was tabooed. We conversed freely about whatever chanced
to enter our minds--of things past, present, and to come. We spoke of
God the Saviour, of redemption and of sin. Then, with that discursive
tendency to which most minds are prone, we diverged to home and
civilised lands, contrasting these with life in the wild-woods of the
Great Nor'-west. After that we became sleepy, and our converse was
more discursive--at times even incoherent--in the midst of