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"Hurrah!" exclaimed Dave. "That's the way to talk!" Urged on by the thought of the suffering cattle, the three made good speed to the place where the river turned. There, as Mr. Carson had seen a short time before, was the newly-built dam. A number of cowboys were about it, and Dave saw Len, his enemy. "Are you game?" asked the engineer. "I am!" exclaimed the ^ranchman.
And he had considered himself, proudly considered himself, the son of one of the best-liked, best-known and most upright cattle raisers of the Rolling River country. Now who was he? "Come on, Len," said Whitey. "If you've got the strays we'll drive them back. Been out long enough as 'tis." He wheeled his horse, Len doing the same, and they started after the straying cattle.
She would have concealed it from him, but he was merciless. A strange, happy look came into his own face. "Len, don't hide that from me. It's the one thing I've always wished you'd show, and you never have. I'm such a jealous beggar myself I've wanted you to care that way, and I've never been able to discover a trace of it." "But I'm not really jealous in the way you think.
The wind, continuing to blow steadily from the west, was in our favour, and if the present speed of the Halbrane could be maintained, as I ventured to suggest to Captain Len Guy, the voyage from the South Orkneys to the Polar Circle would be a short one. Beyond, as I knew, we should have to force the gate of the thick barrier of icebergs, or to discover a breach in that ice-fortress.
This news produced a great sensation on board. Our last hope was suddenly extinguished. And what a blow to Captain Len Guy! We should have to seek land of the austral zone under higher latitudes without being sure of ever coming across it! And then the cry, “Back ship! back ship!” sounded almost unanimously on board the Halbrane.
“Thief of a sphinx!” Of course the things which had belonged to the Halbrane’s boat and the Paracuta’s were the only articles that adorned the mighty sides of the lonely mystic form. Never had any ship reached such a latitude of the Antarctic Sea. Hearne and his accomplices, Captain Len Guy and his companions, were the first who had trodden this point of the southern continent.
The picturesque and wonderful side of the story we were studying as gospel truth had little charm and but slight interest for Captain Len Guy; he was indifferent to everything in Pym’s narrative that did not relate directly to the castaways of Tsalal Island: his mind was solely and constantly set upon their rescue.
It could not be doubted that we were in the vicinity of a magnet which produced these terrible but strictly natural effects by its attraction. I communicated my idea to my companions, and they regarded this explanation as conclusive, in presence of the physical facts of which we were the actual witnesses. “We shall incur no risk by going to the foot of the mound, I suppose,” said Captain Len Guy.
Something seemed to strike Dave Carson a blow in the face. It was as though he had suddenly plunged into cold water, and, for the moment, he could not get his breath. The sneering words of Len Molick rang in his ears: "You're a nameless, picked-up nobody!"
They get all their chawing by borrowing; they say to a fellow, "I wisht you'd len' me a chaw, Jack, I jist this minute give Ben Thompson the last chaw I had" which is a lie pretty much everytime; it don't fool nobody but a stranger; but Jack ain't no stranger, so he says: "YOU give him a chaw, did you? So did your sister's cat's grandmother.
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