You won't make God's House, much less Hudson's Bay!" Weyman laughed joyously.
"Fooled 'em--fooled 'em all!" he told himself.

"We'll wager a dollar to a doughnut that we're the toughest looking specimen that ever drifted down from Coronation Gulf, or any other gulf.

A DOUGHNUT! I'd trade a gold nugget as big as my fist for a doughnut or a piece of pie right this minute.

Doughnuts an' pie--real old pumpkin pie--an' cranberry sauce, 'n' POTATOES! Good Lord, and they're only six hundred miles away, carloads of 'em!" He began to whistle as he pulled his rubber dunnage sack out of the canoe.

Suddenly he stopped, his eyes staring at the smooth white floor of sand.