When nothing more remained worth attention he held up a piece, considerably scorched, and, looking at the others, asked:
"Eat now?"
"No; we'll wait till morning," replied Rob, speaking for the rest.
"All right."
But he was not disposed to wait if they were. He made quite a meal, with as much evident enjoyment as if it had been upon the choicest part of the musk ox. He took care, however, to leave a good supply against the "rainy day" that he felt no doubt would come to them all.
The dismal day wore slowly away, and with a feeling of unutterable loneliness they saw the second night of their enforced stay in the cavern close around them. The cold seemed to intensify with the approach of darkness, and the supply of wood had grown so slight that the warmth was barely perceptible.
The blizzard raged with unabated fury. The gale shrieked around the rocks, the blinding snow whirled and eddied until it seemed that it must bury them out of sight, and the outlook was woeful enough to chill the bravest heart. The three in the corner adhered to their resolution not to eat any of the food prepared before the morrow. They might need it then to aid their systems in withstanding the terrific strain, but, as in the case of the bear on the iceberg, it must be the last resort.
The Esquimau declined their invitation to join them in the corner. He was thickly clad, and was so accustomed to the rigors of the Arctic winter that he needed no such help. He seated himself near by, and talked a little, until, at a late hour, troubled sleep settled over all.
A gleam of hope came with the break of day. Docak was the first to awake, and, without disturbing the others, he forced his way through the entrance and took a survey of the weather and his surroundings.
The blizzard was over. The fall of snow had ceased, little wind was stirring, but the cold was terrible. Toughened as he was, he shrank when first exposed to it. The party had been walled in so tightly that the warmth of their bodies was of more help than would be suspected.