Randy was staggered at the request, coming so unexpectedly. He glanced at Earl before replying. "No, I guess not," he said.
"Why, what's the matter with you?" cried Roland, half angrily. "We are all Maine folks, and friends ought to stick together, seems to me."
He turned to Foster Portney and introduced himself and Guardley, and stated his case, adding that he and his companion only wanted to join some party until Dawson City was reached. Mr. Portney listened quietly, and then turned to Captain Zoss, who stood near.
"I don't believe we want any more in our crowd, do you?"
"I reckon we've got a-plenty," was the captain's answer. "Still, if they are friends to the boys—"
"But they are not," whispered Earl. "And what is more, we consider them doubtful characters."
"Then we don't want 'em, nohow."
"This camp is full," came from inside, where Dr. Barwaithe sat, examining his sore foot, which was neither better nor worse. "That boat we are building won't hold more than five people, along with our outfits."
The faces of both Roland and Guardley grew dark. "All right; if you don't want us, we'll hook fast somewhere else," muttered Roland, and turned on his heel.
"Maybe you'll regret throwing us off some day," came from Guardley, as he passed Earl; and then the two men were lost to sight among the tents up the lake shore.