They are like to be precious property." "I've got eight," said Kit, counting them.
"I have seven," Wade announced.
"Six," said I.
"I took nine," Raed observed.
"You gave me five," reported Weymouth.

"I have used one.

Here's the other four." "Thirty-four in all," said Raed.

"Now, boys, these are worth their weight in gold to us.

Not one must be wasted." "My butcher-knife is like to come into good use." Donovan remarked, feeling the edge of it.
"Yes; and we've got our jack-knives too," said Kit.
"How about a fire ?" Wade asked.
At that there were blank looks for a moment; till, with a queer grin, Donovan began to fumble in his waistcoat-pocket, and drew out, in close company with a rounded plug of tobacco, seven or eight grimy matches.
"Hurrah!" shouted Kit.
"You've allus been dippin' into me pretty strong about smokin'," said Don, looking around to Raed; "but you can't say that smokin' don't have its advantages sometimes." "That's an argument for the weed that we can all appreciate at present, no mistake," Raed replied.