Then the voice left those humming spaces of infinity, and said: "Tilt him
this way a little, Big Moccasin. There, press firmly, so. Now the band
steady--together--tighter--now the withes--a little higher up--cut them
here." There was a slight pause, and then: "There, that's as good as an
army surgeon could do it. He'll be as sound as a bell in two weeks. Eh,
well, how do you feel now? Better? That's right! Like to be on your
feet, would you? Wait. Here, a sup of this. There you are. . . .
Well?"

"Well," said the young man, faintly, "he was a beauty."

Malbrouck looked at him a moment, thoughtfully, and then said: "Yes, he
was a beauty."

"I want a dozen more like him, and then I shall be able to drop 'em as
neat as, you do."

"H'm! the order is large. I'm afraid we shall have to fill it at some
other time;" and Malbrouck smiled a little grimly.

"What! only one moose to take back to the Height of Land, to--" something
in the eye of the other stopped him.

"To? Yes, to?" and now the eye had a suggestion of humour.

"To show I'm not a tenderfoot."

"Yes, to show you're not a tenderfoot. I fancy that will be hardly
necessary. Oh, you will be up, eh? Well!"