Towards morning, having been fifty-eight hours without food, our last drop of whiskey exhausted, and the fire extinguished, we found"-- "Yes, yes!" said half a dozen voices.
"We found," continued Uncle Sylvester, rubbing his hands cheerfully, "we found it--exceedingly cold.

Yes--EXCEEDINGLY cold!" There was a dead silence.
"But you escaped!" said Kitty breathlessly.
"I think so.

I think we all escaped--that is, except Thompson, if his name WAS Thompson; it might have been Parker," continued Uncle Sylvester, gazing with a certain languid astonishment on the eager faces around him.
"But HOW did you escape ?" "Oh, somehow! I don't remember exactly.

I don't think," he went on reflectively, "that we had to eat Thompson--if it was HIM--at least not then.

No"-- with a faint effort of recollection--"that would have been another affair.