A steady and gradually strengthening breeze was blowing from the North. The boys, wet to the skin, huddled close together on the center of the drifting ice pan and in the lee of the boat. Presently Paul, less inured to cold and exposure than Dan, began to shiver, and Dan suggested:
“Get in your sleepin’ bag. ’Tis rare cold, an’ you shakes like un had th’ ague.”
“No, I’d be afraid to lie down,” objected Paul, “but maybe we could wrap a pair of the blankets around us. There are three pairs in my bag.”
“Now maybe we could be doin’ that,” said Dan. “I’ll get un.”
He felt in the dark among the things which had been piled together, and presently drew the inner pair of blankets from the bag. This they wrapped around their shoulders, drawing it close about them, with a camp bag for their seat and the boat at their back.
“Is there no help for us—no hope that the ship’s boat will pick us up in the morning?” asked Paul.
“I’m not sayin’ that,” comforted Dan. “Th’ ship’ll sure cruise t’ th’ s’uthard with daylight, an’ if th’ fog clears she’ll be findin’ us, an’ th’ ice holds together.”
“Do you think the ice will hold together until morning?”
“I’m hopin’ so. An’ with light I’ll be tryin’ my hand at fixin’ th’ boat, an’ I’m thinkin’ we may fix un.”
They were quiet for a long while, when Dan asked, softly: