The man's grief was so genuine, and his dejection so deep that the wrathful gleam faded from Waseche Bill's eyes, and Connie moved nearer and placed his hand upon the Irishman's shoulder.
"Never mind, O'Brien. You didn't mean to leave the map—we know that—don't we, Waseche?"
"Sho', he didn't," answered the man, gloomily. "But that don't help the case any. How we-all ah goin' to get out of heah, now, is mo'n I know——"
"Me nayther," assented O'Brien. "Av Oi'd shtayed in Kildare, Oi w'dn't be here now. We bether go back an' settle down wid th' Injuns—av we c'n make friends wid um ag'in, befoor they har-rpoon us—f'r Oi'll niver see Flor-ridy, now!"
Connie leaped to his feet and stood before the two men, who looked into the narrowing grey eyes that flashed in the flickering flare of the blubber lamp.
"You make me tired!" cried Connie. "Anybody'd think you needed a city, with the streets all numbered, to find your way around."
"You make me tired!" cried the boy, "both of you—with your talk of not getting out of the Lillimuit; and of going back to the Indians! Why, they'd eat up our dogs, and then we couldn't get out! What's got into you, Waseche? Buck up! Anybody'd think you needed a city, with the streets all numbered, to find your way around!
"Carlson came in by the Tatonduk—and he went out by the Kandik—his first trip, when he showed the nuggets he brought back. Who made Carlson's map? He was a sourdough—but he has nothing on us! He found his own way out—and so will we! If we miss the Kandik, we'll find a pass of our own—or a river—or a creek! We're not afraid of the Lillimuit. It hasn't got us yet! And it isn't going to! We've got the dogs, and we've got the grub—and we've got the nerve to back them. We'll hike to the outside on our own trail—and we'll turn around and come back after the gold!