Then came the
dreaded announcement that one portion of their supplies was exhausted.
There was no longer a drop of oil for their lamp.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE COMING OF DAVID GIDGE.
White, who was still confined to the hut with his strained ankle,
announced that they no longer had any oil upon Cabot's return at dusk
from a day of fruitless hunting and outlook duty on the ice.
"That's bad," replied the latter, in a tone whose cheerfulness strove
to conceal his anxiety. "Now we'll have to burn the sled. Lucky thing
for us that it's of wood instead of being one of those bone affairs
such as we saw at Locked Harbour."
"Our provisions are nearly gone too," added White. "In fact we've only
enough for one more day."
"Oh, well! A lot of things can happen in a day, and some of them may
happen to us."
But the only thing worthy of note that happened on the following day
was a storm of such violence as to compel even stout-hearted Cabot to
remain behind the sheltering walls of the hut, and, while it raged, our
shivering lads, crouched above a tiny blaze of sled wood, ate their
last morsel of food. They still had a small quantity of tea, but that
was all. As soon, therefore, as the storm abated Cabot sallied forth
with his gun, still hopeful, in spite of many disappointments, of
finding some bird or beast that, by a lucky shot, might be brought to
the table.
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