The boys declined.
"Try."
They couldn't.
"Name some place."
They couldn't think of any.
"D'ye guv it up?" asked the captain, excitedly.
They did.
"Well, then," said he, in a triumphant tone, "they druv ashore on Brier Island; an ef that thar ain't pooty tall driftin, then I'm a Injine."
To this the boys had no reply to make.
"From all this," continued the captain, "you must perceive that this here driftin is very much more commoner than you hev ben inclined to bleeve it to be. You also must see that thar's every reason for hope. So up with your gizzards! Pluck up your sperrits! Rise and look fortin an the footoor squar in the face. Squar off at fortin, an hav it out with her on the spot. I don't want to hev you go mopin an whinin about this way. Hello!"