“If it wasn’t for these big hummocks we’d be blown clear off the ice,” said Bobby, finally.  “We’ve no idea how strong the wind is and how it sweeps over the level ice out there.  The dogs are wise to get under the drift so soon.”

They again fell into silence for a little while, when Jimmy remarked, sadly: 

“We’ll never see home again, I suppose!  There’s no hope that I can see of getting off this floe.  I wonder what it will be like to die.”

“I’m not thinking about dying,” said Bobby, “and I’m not going to die till I have to.  It’s the last thing I expect to do.  I’m thinking about getting a shelter made before it gets dark, and then keeping alive on here, and as comfortable as we can, until we get ashore.”

“I don’t see how we’re ever going to get ashore,” Jimmy solemnly insisted.  “Not that I feel scared, though I’d rather live than die.  But it’s an awful thing to feel that our bodies will be lost in the sea, and no one will know how we die.”

“If we have to die the sea is as good a place as any to die in, and what difference does it make about our bodies?  But,” added Bobby, “we won’t die if I can help it, and I don’t believe we’re going to.  If we do, why that’s the way the Almighty planned it for us, and we shouldn’t mind, for what the Almighty plans is right.  He knows what is best for us.”

“I can’t believe just that,” said Jimmy.  “If we’d hurried we wouldn’t have been caught in this trap.  It was our fault.  I’m not blaming you, Bobby.  I’m older than you and should have thought further and told you to hurry, so I’m most to blame.  And I can’t help worrying about Partner and Abel and Mrs. Zachariah, and how they’ll feel and what they’ll do.”

“What’s the use of worry?  You always get worrying and stewing, Jimmy, and you know it doesn’t help things any and makes you miserable, and there’s never been a time yet when it didn’t turn out in the end that there never was anything to really worry about, after all.  If you keep on you’ll get yourself scared.  Now quit it.  I was more at fault for getting us into the scrape than you were, and you know that too, and if you keep up this sort of talk I’ll feel you’re trying to rub it in.”

“Well, perhaps you’re right,” Jimmy admitted, and after a moment’s silence suggested, as they rose to continue their efforts to make a shelter:  “Bobby—­let’s ask God to take care of us.”

“Yes,” agreed Bobby enthusiastically, “let’s do; and then let’s do our best to take care of ourselves, and help Him.”

They sank on their knees in the snow, and each in silence offered his own fervent prayer, while the wind drove the thick snow about them and shrieked and moaned weirdly through the hummocks, and the distant booming of the seas, and thunderous smashing of the ice on the outer edge of the floe, fell upon their ears with solemn, ominous foreboding.

“Now I’m going to look again for hard snow,” said Bobby, when they rose presently.  “You better keep close to the komatik, Jimmy, so we won’t lose it.  I won’t go far, and if I find snow that will cut I’ll holler, and if I lose the direction I’ll holler, and then you answer.”