"You will be beaten at home." "Thet's what we want.

Thet's what we're sufferin' for," said Dan.
"Anything homey's good enough fer us.

We've had kinder depressin' company." As the cook passed them a line, Dan told him the tale.
"Yess! He come for hiss knife," was all he said at the end.
Never had the little rocking "We're Here" looked so deliciously home--like as when the cook, born and bred in fogs, rowed them back to her.

There was a warm glow of light from the cabin and a satisfying smell of food forward, and it was heavenly to hear Disko and the others, all quite alive and solid, leaning over the rail and promising them a first-class pounding.

But the cook was a black master of strategy.