snow-shoes and toboggans took our places in the affections of our master for the time being. For I saw snow-shoes and a toboggan there, and I knew what they were, because I had seen some like them in Mr. Brown's store. They came from Canada, and were almost as full of stories as the canoe was. Joe had worn the snow-shoes while hunting caribou in Newfoundland in company with his uncle, and the toboggan had carried his master with lightning speed over the ice bridge at Niagara Falls. Many an hour that would otherwise have dragged by on leaden wings did they brighten for us by relating scraps of their personal history, and at some future time I may induce them to put those same narratives into print for your benefit; but just now we are interested in Tom Bigden. We want to know why he disliked Joe Wayring, and what made him take every opportunity he could find to annoy him.
"When you talk about racing you don't want to leave me out," observed the toboggan, "for I am the lad to show speed. Give me a fair field, and I would not be much afraid to try conclusions with an express train. And it
