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"Wa'al," continued Ira complacently, "I ain't never lost a leg nor yet an arm but, in a manner of speakin', I cal'late I know just round about what it's like. A feller's life ain't never the same ag'in. That man that's handlin' that boat now he wasn't worth much to hisself nor nobody else a'fore he went a-gunnin', that time."
"Don't know but what we ought to name her and break a bottle of ketchup over the bow of this here craft a'fore we la'nch her." "The Forlorn Hope, The Last Chance, or something appropriate like that," Bruce suggested, although there was too much truth in the jest for him to smile. This attempt to recover the sunken boat was literally that. If it was gone, he was done.
"Did ye ever see walrusses a'fore, Davie!" enquired Buzzby who sat beside Summers on the leading sledge. "None but what I've seed on this voyage." "They're remarkable creeturs," rejoined Buzzby, slapping his hand on his thigh. "I've seed many a one in my time, an I can tell ye, lad, they're ugly customers. They fight like good 'uns, and give the Esquimaux a deal o' trouble to kill them they do."
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