"Why, of course you remember the Thayors, Billy! They were at Long
Lake three or four summers ago."

"Oh! a short, thick-set man, with grayish hair?" replied Holcomb in
his low, well-modulated voice--the voice of a man used to the silence
of the big woods. "Let's see," he mused--"wasn't it he that cut
himself so badly with an axe over at Otter Pond? Yes, I remember."

"So does Thayor, Billy, and it'll be a good many years before he
forgets it," declared Jack. "You saved his life, he says. That's one
thing he wants to see you for, and another is that he's played out and
needs a rest."

"Bless me!" cried Brompton in the tragic tones of his profession. "You
saved his life, me boy?"

Holcomb, for the first time, appeared embarrassed.

"Well, that's mighty good of him to think so, but I didn't do much,"
he replied modestly. "Now I come to think of it, he was badly cut and
I helped him down to Doc' Rand's at Bog River. That was, as I figure
it, about three years ago--wasn't it, Randall?"

"You mean," returned Randall, "that you took him down on your back,
and if you hadn't Sam Thayor would have bled to death."

"Bless my soul!" cried the actor.

"Well, you see," continued Holcomb ignoring the interruption, "there
are some that can handle an axe just as easily as some fellows can