After an unsatisfactory breakfast of beans, Dan shouldered his rifle, cautioned Paul not to go out of sight of the tent, and started out to explore and hunt. Late in the afternoon he returned with a big gray goose and a rabbit. Paul, who was in the tent, sprang up when Dan pulled back the flap and looked in.
“Oh, but I’m glad to see you, Dan!” he exclaimed. “I never was so dead lonesome in my life!”
“’Tis a bit lonesome bidin’ alone in camp,” admitted Dan, “but see now what I’m gettin’,” and he dropped his game at Paul’s feet.
“A goose and a rabbit! Oh, Dan, what luck! Now we can have a feast, and I’m so hungry I can hardly move.”
“An’ I’m wonderful hungry, too, with th’ long tramp. Now I’ll be dressin’ th’ goose, an’ you puts a kettle o’ water on an’ cuts some wood.”
Paul went at his task with a vim. He wielded the light camp axe very clumsily, for he had never used an axe before; it was, in fact, his first attempt at manual labor. He had, however, a good supply of wood piled up by the time the goose was dressed and in the kettle, and he and Dan sat down to enjoy the appetizing odor of cooking fowl while they chatted.
“Do you know, Dan, we’re having such a dandy time here, I’ll feel almost sorry when the ship comes. This tent is so cozy,” he declared.
“’Tis cozy an’ fine, but I’m thinkin’ we’ll be wantin’ t’ see th’ ship bad enough before we sees her.”
“But she’ll be along tomorrow, won’t she?”
“No, nor th’ next day neither. I were lookin’ t’ th’ n’uthard from th’ rise back here, an’ I sees a wonderful drift o’ ice workin’ up, an’ if th’ blow holds tomorrow, as ’tis sure to hold, there’ll be a pack o’ ice up from th’ n’uthard that the ship’ll never be gettin’ through.”