With this, and as if to dismiss the subject, he struck up one of his favorite tunes, playing softly, and ceasing only long enough to say to Paul: “A bit t’ port. That’s it, steady.” The morning air was crisp and frosty. The sun illumined the eastern heavens in a blaze of wondrous colors, and presently raised his face above the glistening sea. Even the bleak coast, austere and rugged, possessed a unique grandeur and compelling beauty. The wind sprang up with the rising sun, and the little boat bowled along at a good speed, upon a gentle swell. Now and again Dan would trim the sail, and give an instruction to Paul, “Port lee a bit,” or “Starb’rd a bit,” and return to his music. Paul was thinking of home, of his mother and father, and his homecoming--some time. He had no doubt that he and Dan would extricate themselves from the wilderness, for he had grown to have unbounded faith in Dan’s resourcefulness and ingenuity. He wondered what his parents would say, when Mr. Remington returned without him, if Dan’s assurance that the ship could never have remained in the face of the ice were correct. While he realized and regretted the anxiety his absence would cause his parents, it did not occur to him that any one would believe that he and Dan were drowned. He believed that his father would send a vessel for them when the ice passed out of Hudson Bay the following summer, and that in the meantime he and Dan would be quite comfortable at some trading post which they should presently find. He was thrilled with the delights of adventure, now that any real danger seemed past, and he made for himself pleasant pictures of his return to school and the rôle of hero he would fill in the eyes of the other fellows. Presently Dan ceased playing, and they chatted intermittently. Once a great sea creature raised its back directly in front of them. “What’s that?” asked Paul. “A white whale,” answered Dan, as the thing sank, to appear again much farther out to sea. At another time they passed several seals, and Paul wished to shoot at them, but Dan advised: “’Tis rare hard t’ hit un, an’ if you did hit one an’ kill un, she’d sink before we could get un. An’ we’ll be needin’ all th’ cartridges,” so Paul did not shoot. The sun was close to the western horizon when, ravenously hungry, for they had eaten nothing since breakfast, they ran into a little cove, unloaded their belongings, hauled the boat to a safe position, and made camp. They had kept steadily going all day, for Dan had been unwilling to lose advantage of the fair wind, and had they gone ashore to cook dinner it would have consumed at least an hour of valuable time. “Th’ days is growin’ wonderful short,” said Dan, “an’ we’ll have t’ be usin’ all of the daylight when th’ wind’s fair an’ good. ’Twill save grub, too, if we eats only twice a day.”