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Updated: May 27, 2025
Brother Holden shuffled about to make room for him as well as he could in the narrow area of the pulpit, but he was not quick enough; down came Abe's foot on the curate's toes, almost capsizing the preacher, without in the least disconcerting him. "Moind thee toas, lad, steam's up, I mun jump a bit."
However, Welton answered the summons. Orde hailed his coming with a shout. "I want a dredge," he yelled, as soon as the lumberman was within distance. "I believe we can relieve the pressure somewhat by a channel into Steam's bayou. Get that Government dredge up and through the bayou as soon as you can." "All right," said Welton briefly. "Can you hold her?"
"We'll run'er by steam!" "Steam's th' word!" A storm of determination cried down any such suggestion. "D'ye mean a dozin str-rong min can't run one little engine!" shouted Hogan; "r-rich min, too! It's a shame, lads, we haven't a dhrop o' something to dhrink the health av th' ixpedition." "Yes, Mister Madden, a drop o' something!" urged another voice.
"But he may have perished in this piece of mischief," said Alf, anxiously glancing up at the kite, which was dragging the heavily-laden sledge rather slowly over the rough ice. "I hope not, Alf. Shake the regulator, Butterface, and see that it's clear." "All right, Massa. Steam's on de berry strongest what's possible." "Heave some o' the cargo overboard, Alf. We must make haste.
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