“By rigging a temporary runner. We passed a house a little way back, where the dog barked at us. If some one will go back with me, we can probably get something to block the sled up with. The rest of you had better get into the barge and keep warm.” It was a despairing man indeed who could fail to gain courage from this sturdy giant, with his honest face and quiet, confident voice. “I’ll go with you,” cried half a dozen at once. Laughlin glanced at the half dozen, and took Lindsay. Why he did this, of course he did not explain, and it did not occur to Wolcott even to ask himself the question. He strode along at Laughlin’s side, silent and curious, but having no doubt as to the outcome. With the assistance of the barking dog they woke the farmer, who put his head out the window and demanded what was wanted. “We’ve broken a sled runner, and want a couple of poles to patch up with,” said Laughlin. “Can you lend us an axe?” “There’s an axe at the woodpile by the shed,” answered the farmer, as he hurriedly closed the window. Laughlin pulled out the axe from a log, gave the lantern to Wolcott, and selected two sticks from the pile of sled-length wood. One of these, a smooth hardwood pole, was perhaps ten feet long and two or three inches in diameter at its larger end. The other was much shorter and thicker. He cut out a notch a few inches from the end of the short piece and another near the middle of the longer one. By this time the farmer appeared at the shed door, shivering in overcoat and top-boots. “Have you an auger handy?” asked Laughlin. While this was being found, Laughlin laid the short piece on the ground, placed the pole across it at right angles, fitting notch to notch; and from a short piece of dry wood chipped out a pin. In the meantime the farmer had produced the auger, and Laughlin now bored through both pieces at their intersection and drove in his pin, joining them firmly together. “Got any fence wire?” was the next question. “There’s a piece somewhere round, left from the fence, but I can’t just lay my hand on it now.” “Let us take a couple of yards from the fence, then,” urged Laughlin; “we’ll pay for it.” The farmer hesitated, blinking at the pair in perplexity. “Well, ’tain’t quite the right thing to do, but I guess I can make out to fix it up again. I don’t want no pay for it. Hope you’ll get home all right.” The boys thanked the good man with all the fervor of which they were capable, said good night, selected from the woodpile a pole for a lever, and with their booty tramped back to the barge.