The dawn came with rosy promise of a fair day, a frost lying white over the grass-land, sufficient nip in the air to stir the blood.  Before the others were aroused I examined the boat, which rested high in the mud where we had heaved it the evening previous.  The cruel rent in the solid planking was such as to afford little hope of our ever being able to repair it.  How the accident occurred I did not rightly comprehend, but we had been cast ashore on the western bank of that swift maelstrom.  In the light of dawn, I gazed forth upon the whirlpool extending between the rock against which we had struck and the bank where I stood, in speechless wonder at the miracle of our rescue.  Standing there in silence broken only by the wild tumult of the waters, I thought of Eloise tossed helpless in their merciless grip, and bowed my head humbly above the shattered boat, offering up a heartfelt petition.  I was not in those days a man of prayer, yet the germ of my father’s robust faith was ever in my blood, and love teaches many a good lesson.  Certainly I felt better within my own heart for that instant of communion under the paling stars.

My head was yet bowed over the gunwale when the heavy footsteps of the Puritan sounded close at hand.  I could not fail to remark a softness in his deep voice as he spoke, resting one hand upon my shoulder.

“Thou knowest not, friend Benteen, how it gladdens my old heart to find thee before the throne of grace.  I fear thou art not greatly accustomed to look up unto God in time of trouble, yet doing so can never weaken thy arm for the moment of trial.  Acknowledge the Lord of Hosts, nor dream thou wilt ever prove less of a man because thy heart responds to His many mercies.”

“You speak truly,” I returned soberly, feeling a new respect for him in that hour.  “There is no better way in which to start the day; and, unless my eyes deceive me, this bids fair to prove a day of sore trial.  Have you looked to the damage done the boat?”

“Nay,” he returned earnestly, bending low to examine the rent.  “I slept like a man in drink, and even now am scarcely well awakened.  ’T is, indeed, a serious break, friend; one, I fear, which will prove beyond our remedying.”

“Have you skill with tools?”

“It is one of my gifts; yet of what use in the wilderness where tools are not to be found?  However, I will see what may be done, after we break our fast—­there is little accomplished working on an empty stomach.”

It was a morning of sorrowful labor; from the beginning a perfectly hopeless one.  The planking had been so badly crushed that a portion was actually ground into powder, leaving a great gaping hole.  To patch this we possessed no tool to shape the wood properly, or, indeed, any wood to shape, except the seats of the oarsmen.  Nor did we possess nails.  More than one expedient was resorted to with bits of canvas, wooden pegs, or whatsoever else we could lay hands upon, but our efforts resulted each time in sickening failure.  At last, long before the sun had attained the zenith, the old preacher looked up, disappointment written on every line of his rough face, to say grimly: