Two fathoms
from th' shore I steps on bad ice an' in I goes, head an' all, an' th'
current snatches me off'n my feet an' carries me under th' ice, an'
afore I knows un I finds th' water carryin' me along as fast as a deer
when he gets th' wind."
"An' how did un get out?" asked Bob in open-mouthed wonder.
"'Twere sure a hard fix _under_ th' ice," remarked Bill, equally
interested.
"A wonderful hard fix, a _wonderful_ hard fix, _under_ th' ice, an' I
were handy t' stayin' under un," said Ed, taking evident delight in
keeping his auditors in suspense. "Aye, a _wonderful_ hard fix,"
continued he, while he hacked pieces from his tobacco plug and filled
his pipe.
"An' where were I?" asked Dick, making a quick calculation of past
events. "I were huntin' wi' un ten year ago, an' I don't mind ye're
gettin' in th' ice."
"'Twere th' winter un were laid up wi' th' lame leg, an' poor Frank
Morgan were huntin' along wi' me. Frank were lost th' same spring in
th' Bay. Does un mind that?"
"'Twere only _nine_ year ago I were laid up an' Frank were huntin' my
trail," said Dick.
"Well, maybe 'twere only nine year; 'twere _nine_ or _ten_ year ago,"
Ed continued, with some show of impatience at Dick's questioning.
"Leastways 'twere thereabouts.
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