These are just the things for giving long-range stabs with." "Don't forget the caps!" cried Raed, already half way up the companion-way.
The wind was rather raw that morning: we put on our thick pea-jackets.
Weymouth and Don were already down in the boat, which they had brought alongside.
"Here, Don, stick that in your waistband!" exclaimed Kit, who had come up last, tossing him one of our new butcher-knives.
"All right, sir!" "Wish you would give me a musket," said Weymouth.
"You shall have one!" cried Wade, running back for it.
"Come, Guard!" shouted Kit.

"Here, sir!" and the shaggy Newfoundland came bouncing down into the boat.
We got in and pulled off.
"Make for that little cove up above the ice where the sea-horse lies," directed Raed.

"We'll land there, and then creep over the rocks toward him." Kit caught up the extra paddle, and began to scull.

We shot over the waves; we joked and laughed.

Somehow, we were all as merry as grigs that morning.
Running into the cove, the boat was pulled up from the water, and securely fastened.