"No; you stay at home."
"No; go too."
"Go too, thou babbler! Kaviak's a better trail man than some I could mention."
"We'll have to carry him home," objected Potts.
"Now don't tell us you'll do any of the carryin', or we'll lose confidence in you, Potts."
The trail was something awful, but on their Canadian snowshoes they got as far as an island, six miles off. One end of it was better wooded than any easily accessible place they had seen.
"Why, this is quite like real spruce," said the Boy, and O'Flynn admitted that even in California "these here would be called 'trees' wid no intintion o' bein' sarcaustic."
So they cut holes in the ice, and sounded for the channel.
"Yes, sir, the steamers can make a landin' here, and here's where we'll have our wood-rack."
They went home in better spirits than they had been in since that welter of gold had lain on the Big Cabin table.