The dog only whined, opened one eye, blinked at him, and went off to sleep again.
“Poor old chap!” mused Abel. “I didn’t think I could care so much for such a great, rough, ugly brute as you are; but adversity makes strange friends.”
Abel finished that day wondering how Dallas was getting on, and trying to picture his journey through the snow by the side of the ice-bound stream; grew more melancholy from his lonely position, and then tried to rouse himself by being practical and planning.
He made up his mind to content himself with one good, hearty meal a day, so as to make the provisions last out well, in case Dallas should not be back to time, and only to be extravagant with the fuel.
Lastly, he went to the door and looked out, to find that it was a clear, frosty night, with the brilliant stars peering down.
He knew it was night, for no fires were to be seen in any direction, and, after making all as snug as he could, he rolled himself in his blankets, drew the skin bag up about him, and followed his dumb companion’s example, sleeping till morning, when the logs were just smouldering and had to be coaxed into a good warm blaze again.
And so the days and nights glided by. He would awake again to find the fire burning low, the dog still sleeping, and the horror of another dreary day to pass. For his foot seemed no better, his spirits were lower than ever, and at last it was long past the time when Dallas should have returned.
How the days passed then he never afterwards could quite recall, for it was like a continuous nightmare. But in a mechanical way he kept up the fire, with the wood piled in one corner by the door getting so low that he knew he must bestir himself soon, and get to the stack by the shaft, knock and brush off the snow, and bring in more to thaw in the warmth of the hut.
All in a strange, dreamy way he sat and watched, cooked a large pot of skilly, and shared it with the still drowsy dog, which took its portion and curled-up again, after whining softly and licking his hand.
One night all seemed over. No one had been near, and he had felt too weak and weary to limp to the nearest hut in search of human companionship. He was alone in his misery and despair. Dallas must be dead, he felt sure, and there was nothing for him to do now but make another good meal for himself and the dog, and then sleep.