As drowsiness came on I sprinkled the deck with tacks, and then I turned in, bearing in mind the advice of my old friend Samblich that I was not to step on them myself.

I saw to it that not a few of them stood "business end" up; for when the _Spray_ passed Thieves' Bay two canoes had put out and followed in her wake, and there was no disguising the fact any longer that I was alone.
Now, it is well known that one cannot step on a tack without saying something about it.

A pretty good Christian will whistle when he steps on the "commercial end" of a carpet-tack; a savage will howl and claw the air, and that was just what happened that night about twelve o'clock, while I was asleep in the cabin, where the savages thought they "had me," sloop and all, but changed their minds when they stepped on deck, for then they thought that I or somebody else had them.

I had no need of a dog; they howled like a pack of hounds.

I had hardly use for a gun.