As they rowed out in the open water the men looked disappointed, and Steve, who was in the bows of the first boat with Johannes and Jakobsen, had to listen to the Scotch sailors' banter, spoken to the Norwegians sometimes, but more often at the lad himself. "Hahmeesh laddie," said Andrew McByle, "if she hadna baith hands at the oar, she'd get out ta sneeshin'. Gie me a pinch. Hah! Ferry goot, laddie, ferry goot," he continued, after helping himself to a pinch of snuff, and being able to use his hands for that. "She'll hae chust ane more wee bit. Hah! Tak' the box back, as she'll pe for finishing it a'." They rowed on for a little while, with Hamish staring about and Andrew giving an occasional snort of contempt. "See annything, Hahmeesh?" "Na, naething." "Naething it is, laddie. Hech! And I thocht after a' she'd heard tell tat the sea was chust alive wi' the walrus and seal, and bear lived a' along like wee birdies on the rocks." "Hey, to hear a' they said," grumbled Hamish, "she'd think sae. Ant there's as many walrus coos and bulls here as ye see in ta Firth o' Clyde if ye gang oop ta Glasgie." "Ye're recht, laddie," said Andrew, "chust as many. Why, it's petter in ta Clyde, for she can see a porpoise pig, and there's naething here but watter and ice. Wha are we gaen?" "She canna tell," said Hamish. "She's thinkin' it's to pring the lang tyke oot for a ride." "If you call my collie a `lang tyke,' Hamish, I'll set him at you. Here, Skeny. Css!" The dog started up from where he had been lying in the bows, looked in his master's face, and uttered a low growl. "Na, she wadna set the tog at a man, Hahmeesh," said Andrew with a sly grin. "Not that there's muckle bite spout the tog. What made ye pring her to sea at a', Meester Steve?" "To bite impudent people's legs," said Steve gruffly. "Na, she wadna dae tat," cried Andrew. "Put, Meester Steve, wha' are a' the walrus gane tae?" "To sleep, perhaps." Andrew chuckled. "Look here, laddie, she winna say a wort to anny one, but ye'll chust tell the truth to a man. She tidna see anny walrus yesterday at a'?" "I'm not going to try and make you believe if you don't care to," said Steve. "Put she chust wants to know. Come noo, ye tidna see anny, and it was a chust flim-flam and mak'-believe." "There were plenty here yesterday," said Steve. "Then where are they gane the?" "Why didn't you bring your pipes and play? You'd have soon seen where they were." "Ay!" said Andrew seriously. "Chust a wee lilt o' the pipes might pring the creatures oot o' their holes. There was a man ance, Apollo they ca'd him, as played on the pipes, an' a' the bit beasties cam' roond to listen; and she'll pe thenking that a' that time back the pipes would pe ferry safage like, and a mon like tat not aple to play like we play the noo." This was said so innocently and in such good faith that Steve could hardly keep his countenance.