"Not he. Didn't he carry off my box o' biscuit?"
"Think of this fog."
"O, fog ain't much. It's snow an cold that tries a man. He's tough, too."
"But he's been so exposed."
"Exposed? What to? Not he. Didn't he go an carry off that ole sail?"
"I cannot help thinking that it's all over with him?"
"Don't give him up; keep up; cheer up. Think how we got hold of ole Solomon after givin him up. I tell you that thar was a good sign."
"He's been gone too long. Why, it's going on a fortnight?"
"Wal, what o' that ef he's goin to turn up all right in the end? I tell you he's somewhar. Ef he ain't in the Bay of Fundy, he may be driftin off the coast o' Maine, an picked up long ago, an on his way home now per steamer."
Bart shook his head, and turned away in deep despondency, in which feeling all the other boys joined him. They had but little hope now. The time that had elapsed seemed to be too long, and their disappointments had been too many. The sadness which they had felt all along was now deeper than ever, and they looked forward without a ray of hope.