And so, making the best of his resources, Bobby prepared for his siege,
which he felt quite sure would end only when the bay froze and he could
make his escape over the ice. A great part of the daylight hours were
spent in collecting bits of wood. This kept him exercising, and kept
his blood warm.
Already the sea was smoking. The freeze-up was close at hand. With each
hour the merciless winter cold increased in strength. That evening when
he entered his cave he closed the entrance with snow, that it might be
kept warm, but nevertheless he spent an uncomfortable night, and he was
glad enough to crawl out in the morning and light his fire.
That was a cheerless day. The sun shone through a gray veil, and offered
little warmth. There was no more wood to gather, and to save his little
stock he ran up and down upon the rocks that he might drive away the
cold with exercise.
The sun was low when he lighted his evening fire, and as he prepared his
sea pigeon for supper he remembered with regret that he had but one bird
remaining.
"And I've been hungry ever since I've been here," he remarked to
himself. "I'm half starved this minute."
He was thinking a great deal now of what he should have to eat when he
reached home, and planning for this and that. And, oh, for some good
hot tea!
And so, thinking, and dreading to go to his cheerless cave, he sat while
his fire burned low and the sun sank from sight and the long and gloomy
twilight gathered.
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