"Spilt it?"
"Syrup?"
"No; it don't seem to be spilt, either." He patted the ground with his hand.
"You don't mean that new can—"
"Not a drop in it." He turned it upside down.
Every eye went to Kaviak. He was sitting on his cricket by the fire waiting for dinner. He returned the accusing looks of the company with self-possession.
"Come here." He got up and trotted over to "Farva."
"Have you been to the syrup?"
Kaviak shook his head.
"You must have been."