“’Tis a long while till mornin’ yet. I’m thinkin’ ’tis about two bells.” “One o’clock?” “Yes. I’ll strike a match, an’ you looks at your watch.” The flash of the match disclosed the hour as ten minutes past twelve. “Time goes wonderful slow.” “Yes. I thought it was almost morning.” “Were you sleepin’?” “No.” Another silence, and Dan remarked: “You got a wonderful lot o’ ca’tridges in your bag. What you bringin’ so many for?” “They’re what Mr. Remington gave me.” “Wonderful lot of un. More ’n you’ll need in a year.” They settled down again, and when Dan looked up a faint light was showing through the fog blanket. He stirred and Paul awoke. “We been sleepin’, Paul, an’ day’ll soon be breakin’.” “Where are we?” asked Paul, rubbing his eyes. “Cruisin’ to th’ s’uthard on a bit of ice in Hudson Bay,” answered Dan, adding facetiously: “We ain’t got no log, an’ I’ve lost th’ reckonin’.” “Oh!” exclaimed Paul, sitting up and looking around him. “I remember now! I was dreaming of home, and when I woke up I thought we were in camp. My, but I’m stiff and cold.” “’Tis a kind of camp, but not a shore camp.” As daylight grew the outlook appeared more dismal than ever. The fog if possible was more dense than the evening before, and while the boys slept a corner of the pan had broken off. “Do you think we can mend the boat?” asked Paul. “’Tis too dark yet,” answered Dan, “but we’ll be tryin’ soon as we can see.” “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten a thing since twelve o’clock yesterday.” “So is I hungry, an’ we’ll be eatin’ while we can’t do nothin’ else.” An investigation of the provision box disclosed a can of corned beef, three cans of baked beans, a small piece of bacon, a dozen ship’s biscuits, a few pounds of flour and some tea, left over from their fishing trip. “We’ll open one of the cans of beans, and each have a biscuit,” suggested Dan, “but they ain’t nothin’ to drink.” “That’s so; we can’t make tea without a fire.” “No, an’ the water’s salt.” “We’re up against it good and hard. Now you speak of water, I’m famishing for a drink,” said Paul as he ate. “Th’ ice is sweet, an’ after you eats I’ll chip a cupful of un, an’ if you holds un under your jacket she’ll melt.” “I never would have thought of that. These beans are mighty good. Let’s have another can. I’m not half satisfied.” “No, we got to be careful of un. They’s no tellin’ how long ’t will be before we gets picked up, an’ we got to be careful of the grub.” “I’m fearfully hungry, but I guess you’re right.” “Yes, I knows I is. Dad’s often sayin’ to me, ‘Dan, if you ever gets in a tight place, an’ not much grub in sight, be wonderful careful of what you has, and make un last.’” It was full light now. Dan chipped some ice with the axe, filled a cup, and Paul held it carefully beneath his jacket.