"What in thunder's the matter now?" shouted Mose.
"The candle's gone out," shouted the professor back. "Have you got any matches?" he inquired.
"Nary match," said Mose.
"What's to be done?" inquired the professor.
"Nuthin'," said Mose. "The thing's played out. Put on your cloze, while we go and git ourn, and then we'll git for home."
Seating themselves on a log, the boys remained quiet for a while, then rising to their feet, they came up to where the professor was waltzing around trying to get up a circulation.
"Another waterhaul," said Mose.
"Looks a good deal like it," said the professor.
"Don't know why the mischief some of us didn't think tu bring some matches," said Mose.
"I don't know, either," responded the professor, in a deprecating tone of voice, as though he entertained the idea that somehow or other he had been mainly instrumental in producing the bad luck.