“Th’ poor lad!  Th’ poor lad!  An’ th’ wolves got un!”

“An’ his poor mother,” said Ed, choking. “’Twill break her heart, she were countin’ so on Bob.  An’ th’ little maid as is sick—­’twill kill she.”

“Yes,” said Bill, “Emily’ll be mournin’ herself t’ death wi’out Bob.”

These big, soft-hearted trappers were all crying now like women.  No other thought occurred to them than that these ghastly remains were Bob’s, for the toboggan and things on it were his.

After a while they tenderly gathered up the human remains and placed them upon the toboggan.  Then they picked up the gun and blood spattered axe.

“Now here be another axe on th’ flat sled,” said Dick.  “What were Bob havin’ two axes for?”

“’Tis strange,” said Ed.

“He must ha’ had one cached in here, an’ were bringin’ un back,” suggested Bill, and this seemed a satisfactory explanation.

“I’ll take some pieces o’ th’ clothes.  His mother’ll be wantin’ somethin’ that he wore when it happened,” said Dick, as he gathered some of the larger fragments of cloth from the snow.

Then with bowed heads and heavy hearts they silently retraced their steps to the tilt, hauling the toboggan after them.

At the tilt they halted to arrange their future course of action.

“Now,” said Dick, “what’s t’ be done?  ‘Twill only give pain th’ sooner t’ th’ family t’ go out an’ tell un, an’ ’twill do no good.  I’m thinkin’ ‘tis best t’ take th’ remains t’ th’ river tilt an’ not go out with un till we goes home wi’ open water.”

“No, I’m not thinkin’ that way,” dissented Ed.  “Bob’s mother ’ll be wantin’ t’ know right off.  ‘Tis not right t’ keep it from she, an’ she’ll never be forgivin’ us if we’re doin’ it.”

“They’s trouble enough down there that they knows of,” argued Dick.  “They’ll be thinkin’ Bob safe ‘an not expectin’ he till th’ open water an’ we don’t tell un, an’ between now an’ then have so much less t’ worry un, and be so much happier ‘an if they were knowin’.  Folks lives only so long anyways an’ troubles they has an’ don’t know about is troubles they don’t have, or th’ same as not havin’ un, an’ their lives is that much happier.”

“I’m still thinkin’ they’ll be wantin’ t’ know,” insisted Ed.  “They’ll be plannin’ th’ whole winter for Bob’s comin’ an’ when they’s expectin’ him an’ hears he’s dead, ‘twill be worse’n hearin’ before they expects un.  Leastways, they’ll be gettin’ over un th’ sooner they hears, for trouble always wears off some wi’ passin’ time.  ’Tis our duty t’ go an’ tell un now, I’m thinkin’.”

“What’s un think, Bill?” asked Dick.

“I’m thinkin with Ed, ‘tis best t’ go,” said Bill, positively.

“Well, maybe ’tis—­maybe ’tis,” Dick finally assented.  “Now, who’ll be goin’?  ‘Twill be a wonderful hard task t’ break th’ news.  I’m thinkin’ my heart’d be failin’ me when I gets there.  Ed, would un mind goin’?”