Kicking the snow hastily aside, the Indian examined the ground
carefully a moment and then said: "No, only horse; Allan further on."
The Indian, with head bent down, walked quickly forward, threw up
his arms, and disappeared. He had stepped over the clean edge of the
cellar and sunk exactly as Allan had. A few desperate plunges sufficed
to take the strong Indian through the intervening snow and into the
protected corner where Allan, just rousing from his second sleep, sat
bolt upright. The Indian's coming disturbed the snow so that a glimmer
of light penetrated into the dark space. Allan supposed a wolf had
found its way down there, and hastily drew his large knife, bracing
himself for an encounter.
The Indian sputtered, thrashed about to clear himself from the snow,
and in so doing rapped his head smartly against the low ceiling of
logs.
"Waugh! waugh!" exclaimed he. "Too much low; Indian break 'em head;
look out."
Allan instantly recognized the voice of the Indian, his comrade on
many a fishing and hunting tour.
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