The Big Otter | Page 7

goes."
He retired as he spoke, and, making a rush, launched himself against
my door, which, however, withstood the shock.
"Here, Spooner," I then heard him say, "lend a hand; let us go at it
together."

They went at it together. The lock gave way; the chest of drawers went
spinning to the other side of the room, and Lumley tumbled over
Spooner as both fell headlong to the floor.
As this was by no means an unfamiliar mode of entering each other's
rooms, I took no notice of it, but proceeded to inquire about the married
sister; and Lumley, sitting down on my bed with Spooner, for neither of
them had yet undressed, began to tell me of home and friends with as
much eagerness as if I had been a member of both families. Young
Spooner interrupted Lumley now and then when a touch of coincidence
struck him with reference to his own family affairs, and I could not
resist the pleasure of occasionally making some such remark as, "How
odd! that's very like what happened to my little brother Bob," etcetera,
whereupon Spooner would immediately become excited and draw a
parallel more or less striking in regard to his own kindred and so we
went on far into the night, until we got our several families mixed up to
such an extent that it became almost impossible to disentangle them;
for, being three families, you know, we became inextricably confused
as to which was which, though each was perfectly clear in regard to his
own! Thus, to me, Jane Lumley became confused with Janet Spooner,
so that Janet Lumley and Jane Spooner were always tripping over each
other in my brain, while my dear cousin Maggie Maxby became a
Maggie Spooner to Lumley, and a Maggie Lumley to Spooner, and to
each sometimes a Janet or a Jane respectively. If the reader will
multiply into this question two mothers and three fathers, four brothers
and six sisters, besides numberless aunts, uncles, and cousins, male and
female, he will easily perceive how between mental perplexity and a
tendency to slumber, we at last gave the matter up in a sort of jovial
despair.
We were startled suddenly from this condition by a crash and an
exceedingly sharp and bitter cry.
It must be remarked here, that, in order to subdue King Frost in those
northern strongholds of his, we had, besides double doors and double
windows and porches, an enormous cast-iron stove from the famous
Carron foundry. It stood in the centre of our hall, so that its genial

favours might be distributed with equal justice to the various
sleeping-rooms that opened out of the hall all round. From this stove an
iron pipe arose, and, turning at a right angle when within a couple of
feet of the ceiling, proceeded to the chimney at the upper end of the hall.
When the thermometer stood much below zero, we were accustomed to
raise the stove and part of its pipe to a dull-red heat, which had the
effect of partially melting the contents of the water-jugs in our
bedrooms, and of partially roasting the knees of our trousers. To keep
this stove up to its work was the duty of an Indian youth, whom we
styled Salamander, because he seemed to be impervious to heat. He
was equally so to cold. When I first went to Dunregan I used to pity
Salamander, on hearing him every morning enter our hall with a gust of
air that seemed cold enough to freeze a walrus, and proceed to strike a
light and kindle our fire. My own nose, and sometimes an eye, was all
that protruded from the buffalo robe at such times. But Salamander
never shivered, and always grinned, from which I came to understand
that my pity was misplaced. About nine o'clock each night he left us to
look after the great Carron stove ourselves, and we were all pretty good
stokers. Self-interest kept us up to duty. Sometimes we overdid it,
raising the dull-red to brightness now and then.
On this particular occasion, in the exuberance of his feelings, Lumley,
before bursting into my room, had heaped on as much dry wood as the
stove could hold. It chanced to be exceedingly resinous wood. He also
opened the blow-hole to its utmost extent. Being congregated in my
bedroom, as I have described, deeply engaged in eager comments and
family reminiscences, we failed to observe that the great Carron stove
roared like a wrathful furnace, that it changed from a dull to a bright
red in its anger, and eventually became white with passion. As "evil
communications" have a tendency to corrupt, the usually innocent pipe
became inflamed. It communicated the evil to the chimney, which
straightway caught fire, belched