"I know we did, and I thought that d——, excuse me, Sam," he apologized, as he again glanced toward Reynolds. "I mean, I thought that the fog-bank would never lift. We've been doing some of the islands for several months."
"Strike anything?"
"Nothing, an' nearly starved in the bargain. If it hadn't been fer an
Indian mission, we wouldn't be alive now."
"Then missionaries are of some use after all, Curly. You was allus hard on 'em, if I remember right."
"Umph! They're all right when one's starving. If they'd only leave the Gospel dope out, it wouldn't be so bad."
"Got a dose of it, eh?"
"Should say I did. Morning, noon an' night I had to go to church with the Indians. I've had enough to last me the rest of me life. Say, weren't we glad to get away!"
"Goin' north agin? I thought ye was through, up thar?"
"So did I. But we heard of the new strike at Big Draw, an' decided to try our luck once more."
"Think ye'll hit it this time?"