Ah--want to go home.

'Pears like--I'd be better at home.
My folks is out Moose River way.

I'd never get out if I went in there," and by "there" he seemed to mean the Indian's lake, and glanced furtively at the unchanging countenance of the red man.
"Have you a toboggan at your shanty ?" asked Rolf.
"Yes--good enough--it's on the roof--say," and he beckoned feebly to Rolf, "let him go after it--don't leave me--he'll kill me," and he wept feebly in his self pity.
So Quonab started down the mountain--a sinewy man--a striding form, a speck in the melting distance..