“They’s down t’ th’ east’ard, an’ we’ll sure see un tomorrow,” said Dan. “When I first hears un in th’ tent, I were thinkin’ ’t were wolves howlin’, they howls so like wolves. But ’t ain’t wolves, ’tis sure husky dogs.”
“And tomorrow we’ll meet people again, even if they are huskies, and our troubles will be ended! Oh, Dan, I’m so thankful I can hardly contain myself!”
They sat and talked about home and the hope of the morrow until late, and even when they did lie down excitement and anticipation kept them still talking and awake until at last they fell into restless sleep.
Long before daybreak Dan arose very quietly for a look at the weather and to light the fire, but quiet as he was Paul heard him. “Is it time to get up, Dan?” he asked.
“’T will soon be time,” answered Dan. “I wakes an’ gets up, for we’re wantin’ t’ be early, sure, so’s t’ be fair ready t’ start soon’s we can see.”
“I can hardly wait to get away!” exclaimed Paul.
Breakfast was eaten in darkness, and the boat loaded and ready for the start before the first hint of dawn appeared in the east. In spite of their impatience Dan deemed it unwise, however, to venture upon the unknown waters until it was sufficiently light to avoid submerged reefs and treacherous bars, and for nearly an hour they were compelled to walk up and down the shore to keep warm, for the morning was stinging cold. At length Dan announced:
“We may’s well be goin’ now. ’T is fair light.”
They hugged the shore closely, turning the boat into every cove and bight, that there might be no possibility of missing the Eskimos for whom they were looking.