"Does you hear un? Does you hear un?"
"Hear what?" asked Charley, sleepily. "I don't hear a thing."
"Hear the stillness!" explained Toby. "The water's not lappin'! The bay has fastened over! By to-morrow, whatever, we'll be leavin' here for Double Up Cove!"
"Hurrah!" shouted Charley, now thoroughly awake. "Isn't it great, Toby! We'll start to-morrow, and to-morrow night we'll be at good old Double Up Cove again! Hurrah!"
Charley "heard" the silence, the impressive, gravelike silence that had fallen upon the world. No longer was there a lapping of waters upon the rocks. No breath of wind murmured through the trees. There was a silence so complete, so absolute that Charley declared he could actually hear it.
The boys hurried down to the shore to scan the bay, and sure enough it lay gray and still under a coating of smooth, dark ice. Toby tried it with a stick, and already it was tough enough to bear his weight near shore.
"I'm doubtin' 'tis fast out in the middle yet," said Toby, "but she'll be freezin' all day, and she'll be fast enough all over by to-morrow, whatever."
It was a busy day of preparation and excitement. On the morrow they were surely to be relieved from their island prison and from an experience that had been most trying and that they would both remember while they lived. All of the boat gear that they had brought ashore and other equipment and belongings were gathered together in a pile.
"'Tisn't much," said Toby, "but 'twould make for weariness to pack un on our backs. I'm thinkin' I'll fix up a riggin' to haul un. 'Twill be easier than packin'."
He proceeded to lay two of the long boat oars parallel upon the snow, and about eighteen inches apart. The blade end of the oars he connected with half a dozen sticks, the end of the sticks lashed firmly to the oars. The handle end of the oars he connected with a piece of rope, drawn taut, and securely tied to the handles.