The sight of the sky evidently gave the men some heart, some hope.
But after a week the stars and aurora disappeared, and the darkness of a Polar night once more descended on the scene.
With so many ill, with so many dead, it would have been but a mockery now to venture on anything approaching to gaiety or merriment. Even Paddy felt that; and though, like boy Bounce, ever earnest, and energetic, and kind, he went about his work quieter and more subdued than probably he had ever been in his life before.
Instead of lecturing, Dr Barrett used in the evenings now to read books to his people; often books of a religious character, though not of the gloomy kind, but rather those that spoke of a Father’s love, and carried the thoughts away and away to that bright land where there shall be no more sorrow or crying.
One morning in March, Dr Barrett appeared more than usually cheerful.
There were now so many sick that hardly could those in comparative health attend to their wants.
“I’ve had a dream,” the doctor explained. “No,” he added, smiling, “I shall not tell you what it is. You will know by-and-by, for my dream may not come true. Byarnie,” he said, “I’m going mining after breakfast. The morning is still and fine, and there are a lot of stars out. Bring tools and a few men with you.”
“Going mining?” said Claude, in some surprise.
“Yes, mining, captain; but not for gold this time, but for what is ten times more precious—for health. Get ready, Byarnie, and we’ll want torches, as well as a bucket.”
“You excite my curiosity,” said Claude. “May I go along with you?”