It was a meager supper, indeed. A bit of bacon, two ship’s biscuits and tea could hardly satisfy the appetite of a boy who had eaten but once in thirty hours, and then but lightly.
“I’m hungrier than ever!” declared Paul, when he had eaten the last morsel of his portion.
“So am I. ’Tweren’t much,” admitted Dan, as he drew his harmonica from his pocket, wiped it on his coat sleeve, and struck up a tune.
Dan struck up a tune
But with relaxation from the long hours of anxiety and exposure which had preceded Dan soon found himself too drowsy to play. Paul was nodding in a brave attempt to keep awake. Dan put the harmonica aside, they made their bed and were soon in heavy slumber, not to awaken until broad daylight.
The wind had risen to almost the force of a hurricane, and upon looking out of the tent they beheld the waters of Hudson Bay beaten into a wild fury. Mighty foam-crested waves were rolling in upon the rocky point below, breaking with a continuous thunderous roar. The fog had passed, and black, broken clouds scudded the sky.
“She’s wonderful mad because she didn’t get us,” remarked Dan.
“My! But weren’t we lucky to drift in last night!” said Paul, shuddering at the scene.
“’Tweren’t luck,” corrected Dan. “Th’ Lord were sendin’ us in ahead o’ th’ blow. Dad says ’tain’t luck, but th’ Lord, as helps folks out o’ bad places.”