They were quiet for a long while, when Dan asked, softly: “Sleepin’?” “No.” “Cold?” “Freezing.” “Snuggle closter.” Paul drew very close to Dan, who drew the blanket tighter. “Warmer?” “Yes, that’s better.” “Ain’t so scairt?” “No--I don’t know--I’m getting used to it, I guess.” “Yes, we’ll be gettin’ used to un before day, an’ then we’ll be doin’ somethin’. Dad says always keep un nerve an’ be plucky, an’ th’ worst fixes can be got out of someway.” “This is a pretty bad fix, though. Guess your dad was never in a fix like this.” “Oh, yes, he were. Dad were on th’ old _Narwhal_ when she were nipped, an’ twelve of her crew were lost. He were adrift on th’ ice for a week before he were picked up. An’ he’s been on four vessels as were wrecked. Dad’s been in some wonderful bad places, but he always gets out of un for he always keeps his nerve--an’ when they ain’t nothin’ he can do for hisself, he prays. Dad’s a wonderful religious man.” “Can you pray?” “Oh, yes; I been prayin’ quiet to myself, settin’ here. Can you?” “I know the Lord’s Prayer. Mother taught me to say it when I was little.” “Say un to yourself. ’Twill do good.” Another long silence, and Dan asked: “Been prayin’?” “It won’t do any good; I’m sure it won’t. I said it once but it don’t seem to belong to this fix.” “’Twill help us if we prays the best we can. Dad says: ‘Do everything you sets your hand to the best un knows how; if ’tis workin’, work the best un can; if ’tis prayin’, pray the best un can.’” “Oh, Dan, if I’d only stopped fishing when you called me! If I’d only gone back to the ship then, we’d have been all right! Oh, why didn’t I go! Why didn’t I go!” “Maybe the Lord were plannin’ to have us go adrift, and He were keepin’ you fishin’. Dad says sometimes th’ Lord does such things to try folks out an’ see what they’ll be doin’ for theirselves.” “No, Dan, it was my fault. Oh, why didn’t I go when you called me! Now we’ll both be drowned, and it’s all my fault.” “Don’t be feelin’ so bad about un, Paul,” Dan soothed. “While they’s life they’s a chanst. Dad’s always sayin’ that, an’ he says, ‘If you ever gets in a tight fix, lad, do all you can to get out of un, an’ when they ain’t nothin’ more _you_ can do, an’ you’re sartin’ they ain’t, then pray to th’ Lord, an’ leave un to He. But,’ says Dad, ‘don’t waste no time prayin’ an’ askin’ th’ Lord’s help when they’s anythin’ you can do yourself. He won’t pull you out of no scrape when you ain’t doin’ th’ things He’s laid out for you to do first.’” “But what can we do?” “Nothin’ but pray now. We hollered an’ fired th’ guns. I been tryin’ to think of everythin’, an’ they ain’t nothin’ else I can think of till ’tis light enough to see, an’ then maybe we’ll be findin’ a way to fix th’ boat; an’ maybe if we prays th’ Lord’ll show us a way to do un.” The lads again lapsed into silence, to be broken finally by Paul. “Dan?” “Yes.” “Isn’t it most morning?”