decent-burial talk makes me sore, for I staged the obsequies
myself, and they were in perfect form. It was one of the tastiest
funerals I ever mixed with. However, I'm broke, so I agree to deliver
what is left of Manard at the mouth of the river, and the agent says
he'll have a first-class coffin shipped down to the trader at Chinik,
our landing. When I deliver Manard, ready for shipment, I get my hundred
and fifty.

"I give you my word I ain't tickled pink with this undertaking. I'm not
strong on body-snatching, and I have a hunch that the shade of old
Manard is still hanging around somewhere. However, a bird in the hand is
the noblest work of God, and I need that roll, so I make ready. It takes
me half a day to get drunk enough to want to do the job, and when I get
drunk enough to want to do it I'm so drunk I can't. Then I have to sober
up and begin all over again. The minute I get sober enough to do the
trick I realize I ain't drunk enough to stand the strain. I jockey that
way for quite a spell till I finally strike an average, being
considerable scared and reckless to the same extent.

"I remembered that we planted the old man in the left-hand grave, but
when I get to the graveyard I can't recollect whether I stood at the
foot or at the head of the hole during the services--a pint of that
mining-camp hootch would box the compass for any man--so I think I'll
make sure.

"I have brought along three tools--a pick, a shovel, and a bottle of
rye. The ground is froze, so I use all of them. Naturally I can't afford
to get the wrong Frenchman, so I pry up the lid of the first box I
uncover and take a good rubber. Well, sir, it is a shock! Instead of
rags and bones like I'm expecting, there is old Manard in statuary quo,
so to speak. Froze? Maybe so. Anyhow, he grins at me! That's what I
said! He grins at me, and I take it on the lam. Understand, I have no
intentions of running away--in fact, I don't know I'm doing it until I
fetch up back in the saloon. It seems I just balanced my body on my legs
and they did all the work.

"Well, I'm pretty well rattled, so I blot up another pint of
pain-killer, and finally the bartender goes back with me and helps load
Manard into my Peterboro. I'm pretty wet by this time. We get the box
into the canoe all right, but it's too big to fit under the seat, so we
place the foot of it on the bottom of the boat and rest the other end on
a paddle laid across the gunnels. This sort of gives M