When he returned with the kettle of water and placed it on the stove to heat for tea, he sat down in silent dejection. Starvation seemed very near. He was always hungry now--ravenously, fearfully hungry--and he could see no relief. Both he and Dan were visibly thinner than when they left the ship, and Paul was worried beyond expression. Dan, squatting before the stove, his knees drawn up to his chin and his arms locked around them, gazing intently at nothing, appeared not to notice Paul as he entered. He was evidently in deep thought, and Paul watched him anxiously, for he had learned that when Dan assumed this position he was making plans for the future. Paul had grown to place great confidence in Dan and his plans. In fact he had come to look upon Dan as quite a wonderful person as well as true friend. Never once had Dan admitted that he was greatly worried at the turn things had taken. On the contrary, while he had owned that their position was serious, he had always ended by assuring Paul that there was some way to overcome any difficulty which they might meet, and that they could find a way to do it, no matter how obscure the way might appear, if they but applied themselves earnestly to the task of searching it out. Presently the kettle boiled, and as Dan arose to make the tea he remarked: “They’s no knowin’ how fur ’tis t’ th’ nearest post, an’ I’m not knowin’ yet what’s best t’ do. Th’ river’s too big t’ ford, an’ if we goes afoot we’ll have t’ raft un, for with ice in th’ bight we can’t launch th’ boat. “If we walks we can’t pack th’ tent or much of th’ outfit, you never done no packin’, an’ I’d have t’ carry most of what we’d be takin’. If’t were far, with other rivers we’d be like t’ meet an’ have t’ raft, th’ cold weather’d be on before we’d be gettin’ anywheres, an’ with no tent the things I’d carry wouldn’t be enough t’ do both of us. “Th’ wind’s veered clean around from th’ nor’east t’ th’ s’uthard, an’ I’m thinkin’ she’ll veer t’ th’ west’ard in a day or so, an’ if she freshens up from th’ west’ard she’ll clear th’ ice out. Then we could be usin’ th’ boat, an’ cruise t’ th’ s’uthard till we finds th’ post or th’ ship picks us up. ’Tis too early for winter t’ be settin’ in t’ stay, an’ we’ll sure be findin’ ducks along th’ coast.” “But we haven’t anything to eat. We’ll starve before that time.” “I’m wonderful troubled about un,” admitted Dan. “They’s no danger of th’ tent blowin’ away, an’, with th’ ice on th’ coast, no chanst of th’ ship comin’, so I’m thinkin’ ’tis best for us both t’ go huntin’. They ain’t no use you stayin’ in camp. I’ll be showin’ you how to make rabbit snares while I hunts. With a bit of snow on th’ ground, an’ no wind, they’s more chanst of findin’ game.” This was very agreeable to Paul. It would take him from the monotonous, lonely hours in camp, and he was eager to get away--to do something.