“Yuh mean to tell me,” exploded Bill, “that you’re goin’ up to Keechewan like that—no boots, two pounds o’ flour an’ nothin’ to protect yourself with when them rampagin’ Nitchies catch sight o’ yuh? If cold an’ hunger don’t get yuh, the smallpox will, an’ if the smallpox don’t get yuh, the Nitchies will. Yuh got about as much chance to come back alive as I have o’ jumpin’ up to the moon.”
“You’re a fool to try it,” grumbled Thomas.
“I have my instructions,” said Corporal Rand, and then remembered suddenly that this was not the truth. “I mean to say, I did have my instructions.”
“An’ yuh lost ’em?”
“No. The inspector changed his mind. He decided to go himself.”
“Why didn’t yuh let him?”
“It was either his life or mine.”
Thomas was puzzled. He appealed to Bill.
“I can’t make nothin’ out of this, can you?”
Bill came to the rescue. He picked up the thread of discourse, where the other had let it fall.