noon
I relapsed into that state so well known to you all , when one seems caught in the meshes of a dream existence which has had no beginning and which is destined never to have an end . We were to hunt seals , and fish , and pry bivalves from the rocks at low tide , and build fires , and talk , and alternate between suspicion and security , between the danger of sedition and the insanity of men without defined purpose , world without end forever . The inevitable happened . One noon Pulz looked up from his labour of pulling the whiskers from the evil-smelling masks . `` How many of these damn things we got ? '' he inquired . `` About three hunder ' and fifty , '' Thrackles replied .