33/37 "Take me to New York at once." "Poor woman--poor woman! When she has you back she'll forgit it all, though. There's eight of us on the _We're Here_, an' ef we went back naow--it's more'n a thousand mile--we'd lose the season. The men they wouldn't hev it, allowin' I was agreeable." "But my father would make it all right." "He'd try. I don't doubt he'd try," said Troop; "but a whole season's catch is eight men's bread; an' you'll be better in your health when you see him in the fall. |