“Mebbe so,” answered the guide frankly. “I’ve a sort of a trick of holding on to things once I’ve got ’em. P’raps that was why I didn’t let go of Chris in that big blizzard till I landed him at camp. But I hope”—here Herb’s shoulders shook with heaving laughter, and the cooking utensils in his pack jingled an accompaniment—“I hope I ain’t like a miserly fellow we had in our lumber-camp. He was awful pious about some things, and awful mean about others. So the boys said, ‘he kept the Sabbath and everything else he could lay his hands upon.’ He used to get riled at it.