“Countin’ yourself one of ’em?”
“Certainly! And I’ll pick the other.”
With an effort Lon got upon his feet. He limped across the room and back again.
“No use, Sam!” he groaned. “I’d stall worse’n a balkin’ mule in the fust forty yards. No; you’ll have to give up the notion.”
“But my notion is that you’re to stay here, and watch Groche.”
“All right—but you’ll stay, too. I’d be plumb crazy to let you go. ’Tain’t ’sif we had the lay o’ the [land]. If we had, ’twouldn’t be so much like startin’ from nowhere for nowhere, in a blizzard, and with the thermometer ’way below zero.”
“But we do know where we’ll start from—that is, we have a general idea.”
“Eh?”
“Wait a minute!” said Sam. “This is Calleck’s house, isn’t it?”
“Ain’t any doubt o’ that, but——”