The Big Otter | Page 8

forth smoke and flames, and cast a
ruddy glare over the usually pallid snow. This chanced to meet the eye
of Salamander as he gazed from his "bunk" in the men's house; caused
him to bounce up and rush out--for, having a taste for sleeping in his
clothes, he was always ready for action--burst open our door with a
crash, and rudely dispel our confusedly pleasant intercourse with the

exceedingly sharp and bitter cry before mentioned.
"Hallo!" shouted Lumley and Spooner simultaneously, as they bounded
rather than rose from my bed. Before they had crossed the threshold I
was out of bed and into my trousers.
There is nothing like the cry of "Fire!" for producing prompt action--or
paralysis! Also for inducing imbecile stupidity. I could not find my
moccasins! Thought is quick--quicker than words. Amputation at the
knee joints stared me in the face for a certainty if I went out with naked
feet. In desperation I seized my capote and thrust both feet into the
sleeves, with some hazy intention of tying a knot on each wrist to
protect the toes. Happily I espied my moccasins at the moment, pulled
them on--left shoe on right foot, of course--and put the coat to its
proper use.
By this time Salamander, contrary to all traditions of Indian stoicism,
was yelling about the fort with his eyes a flame and his hair on end.
The men were out in a few seconds with a ladder, and swarmed up to
the roof of our house, without any definite notion as to what they meant
to do. Mr Strang was also out, smothered in winter garments, and with
an enormous Makinaw blanket over all. He was greatly excited, though
the most self-possessed among us--as most chiefs are, or ought to be.
"Water! water!" shouted the men from the roof.
A keen breeze was blowing from what seemed the very heart of King
Frost's dominion, and snow-drift fine as dust and penetrating as needles,
was swirling about in the night-air.
Water! where was water to come from? The river was frozen almost to
the bottom. Ice six feet thick covered the lakes and ponds. The sound of
trickling water had not been heard for months. It had become an ancient
memory. Water! why, it cost our cook's assistant a full hour every day
to cut through the result of one night's frost in the water-hole before he
could reach the water required for daily use, and what he did obtain had
to be slowly dragged to the fort by that slowest of creatures, an ox.
Nevertheless there was water. In the warmest corner of the kitchen--at

that hour about zero--there stood a water-barrel.
"Run, cook--fetch a bucketful!" cried our chief.
Cook, who had "lost his head," obediently ran, seized a big earthenware
jug, dipped it into the barrel, and smashed it to atoms on a cake of thick
ice! This had the effect of partially recovering his head for him. He
seized an axe, shattered the cake, caught up a bucket, dipped it full and
rushed out spilling half its contents as he ran. The spillings became
icicles before they reached the flaming chimney, but the frost, keen as
it was, could not quite solidify the liquid in so short a space of time.
Blondin, the principal bearer of the winter packet who was a heroic
man and chief actor in this scene, received the half-empty bucket.
"Bah!" he exclaimed, tossing bucket as well as water contemptuously
down the wide chimney. "Bring shuvill, an' blunkits."
Blondin was a French-Canadian half-caste, and not a good linguist.
A shovel was thrown up to him. He seized it and shovelled volumes of
snow from the house-top into the chimney. A moment later and two
blankets were thrown up. Blondin spread one over the flames. It was
shrivelled up instantly. He stuffed down the remains and spread the
second blanket over them, while he shouted for a third. The third came,
and, another bucket of water arriving at the same moment, with a large
mass of snow detached from the roof, the whole were thrust down the
chimney en masse, the flames were quenched and the house was saved.
During this exciting scene, I had begun to realise the great danger of
fire in the chimney of a wooden house, and, with the aid of my
comrades, had been throwing the contents of Bachelors' Hall out into
the snow. We now ceased this process, and began to carry them back
again, while the men crowded round the iron author of all the mischief
to warm their half-frozen bodies. I now observed for the first time that
Blondin had a black patch on the end of his nose. It was a handsome
feature usually, but at that time it was red,