It was beginnin' to get dark,
and suddenly, 'way off to the north, I heard the yell of a painter (or a
panther, as you lads might call it)," turning toward the three comrades,
who were listening intently.
"Waal, when I heard that yell somethin' that seemed colder even than the
icy air clutched at my heart. O' course, I didn't have any weapon with
me, except as you might call my axe one. I looked around fer it, and saw
that it had fallen about three feet farther than I could stretch, and lay
half buried in the snow, only the haft stickin' out.
"I made up my mind that I'd have to have that axe, anyway, an' I set to
work gettin' it. After thinkin' a few minutes I took off a long leather
belt I was wearin' and made a loop by runnin' it through the buckle. From
where I was layin' it was an almighty hard job to throw that loop around
the axe handle, an' I reckon I must 'a' tried twenty times before I
finally made to throw it over. Then I started pullin' easy-like on the
belt to tighten the loop, so it would hold on the slippery handle. The
belt was a leetle stiff, though, an' the loop wouldn't tighten very
close.
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