“Don’t you?” said Davie in a tone of surprise; “now that is odd. One would have thought that a fellow who keeps his weather-eye so constantly open should know everything.”
“Don’t chaff; boy, but lend a hand to undo the sled-lashings. I see that Mr Saunders is agoin’ to anchor here for the night.”
The second mate, who had been taking a hasty glance at the various huts of the village, selected two of the largest as a lodging for his men, and, having divided them into two gangs, ordered them to turn in and sleep as hard as possible.
“’Spose we may sup first,” said Summers in a whining tone of mock humility.
“In coorse you may,” answered Tom Green, giving the lad a push that upset him in the snow.
“Come here, Buzzby, I want to speak to ’ee,” said Saunders, leading him aside. “It seems to me that the Esquimaux canna be very far off, and I observe their tracks are quite fresh in the snow leadin’ to the southward, so I mean to have a night march after them, but as the men seem pretty weel tired I’ll only take two o’ the strongest. Who d’ye think might go?”
“I’ll go myself, sir.”
“Very good, and who else, think ’ee? Amos Parr seems freshest.”
“I think Tom Green’s the man wot can do it. I seed him capsize Davie Summers jist now in the snow, an’ when a man can skylark, I always know he’s got lots o’ wind in ’im.”
“Very good. Then go, Buzzby, and order him to get ready, and look sharp about it.”