“Don’t worry about me,” he said cheerfully. “I’ll be all right. I’ll return safe and sound, depend on that.”
Then, almost before he realized it, Dick was alone. He sat staring at the green, thatched walls of his little prison, disconsolately kicking, with his uninjured foot, at the tangled mat of moss and dead leaves at the side of his bed. Hours would pass before either of his two friends would return. The day would drag itself along, seeming never to come to an end. If there was only something he could do to make time slip away more quickly.
For an hour or more, he cleaned and polished his rifle, pausing now and again to crawl over and put a stick of wood on the fire. By carefully conserving the wood, which Toma and Sandy had gathered on the previous night, there would be sufficient to last for quite a long time.
A little later, putting down his rifle, his gaze fell upon the two rabbits and ptarmigan Toma had brought in. The one rabbit, which Sandy had killed, they had eaten for breakfast. Securing his hunting knife, Dick worked his way across the tepee and commenced to skin and dress the game they had been so fortunate in obtaining.
Having completed this task, Dick went to the opening for snow, which he melted in a kettle over the fire. It was necessary to make many of these trips before he had sufficient water for drinking purposes and for the rabbit-stew he had decided upon. Thus occupied, he contrived to keep himself in a cheerful frame of mind. Staying here alone was not really as monotonous as he had expected.
After he had prepared a light lunch and had drunk several cups of tea, he retired to his bunk and soon fell asleep. When he awoke, it was with the consciousness of being chilly and uncomfortable. Turning his head, he perceived, with a start, that the fire had gone out. It was now quite dark inside the tepee, and looking up he was astonished to see several stars peeping down at him through the smoke-vent.
“I must have slept a long time,” thought Dick, scrambling to a sitting position and preparing to crawl over to rekindle the fire.
In a few minutes a bright blaze sprang up under his hand and in a few minutes more, piling on brush and sticks, he had driven the chill from the room. He was in the act of placing the rabbit-stew over the fire, when the blanket, covering the opening, was pushed unceremoniously aside and Toma entered.
“Hello, you old rascal!” shouted Dick. “This is luck. You made a quick trip of it.”
Toma grinned broadly as he approached the fire and commenced to remove his parka and coat.