Thur's that ole beauty o' the North Star that's been my friend an' guide many's the good time.

Thar it is, makin' the handle o' the Plough, or the Great Bar, as I've heern that colleckshin o' stars freekwently called.

We've only to keep it on our left, a leetle torst the back o' the shoulder, an' then we're boun' to bring out on some o' the head-forks o' the Red--if we kin only last long enough to reach 'em.
Darn it! thar's no danger; an' anyhow, thar's no help for't but try.
Come along!" So speaking, the guide started forward--not in full stride, but timing his pace to suit the feeble steps of his disabled comrade..