it just occurred to me that I had forgotten to visit Louis Blanc, who
cut his foot with an axe yesterday, and whose wound required
redressing, so I left the poor youth to learn from experience."

"Pray, who did you leave to that delightful fate?" asked Mr. Wilson,
issuing from his bedroom, and approaching the stove.

Mr. Wilson was a middle-aged, good-humoured, active man, who filled
the onerous offices of superintendent of the men, trader of furs,
seller of goods to the Indians, and general factotum.

"Our friend Hamilton," answered the doctor, in reply to his question.
"I think he is, without exception, the most egregious nincompoop I
ever saw. Just as I passed the long swamp on my way home, I met him
crashing through the bushes in hot pursuit of a rabbit, the track of
which he mistook for a fox. Poor fellow! He had been out since
breakfast, and only shot a brace of ptarmigan, although they are as
thick as bees and quite tame. 'But then, do you see,' said he, in
excuse, 'I'm so very shortsighted! Would you believe it, I've blown
fifteen lumps of snow to atoms, in the belief that they were
ptarmigan!' and then he rushed off again."

"No doubt," said Mr. Wilson, smiling, "the lad is very green, but
he's a good fellow for all that."

"I'll answer for that," said the accountant; "I found him over at the
men's houses this morning doing _your_ work for you, doctor."

"How so?" inquired the disciple of AEsculapius.