Nothing, he remembered, was beyond God's power, and God was good.
When, presently, he arose from his knees, Skipper Ed felt strangely
relieved. A part, at least, of the load was lifted from his heart. He
could not account for the sensation, but, nevertheless, he felt
stronger, and a degree of his old courage had returned.
He stood for a little longer gazing seaward, but nothing was to be seen
but black, turbulent, surly waters and swirling snow, and at length he
turned reluctantly back to his sledge.
The dogs were lying down, and already nearly covered by the drift. He
called to them to go forward, and, arriving at the _igloo_, listlessly
unharnessed and fed them, and retreated to the shelter of the _igloo_ to
think.
He could eat nothing that night, but he brewed some strong tea over the
stone lamp. Then he lighted his pipe and sat silent, for a long while,
forgetting to smoke.
With every hour the wind increased in force, and before midnight one of
those awful blizzards, so characteristic of Labrador at this season, was
at its height. Once Skipper Ed removed the snow block at the entrance of
the _igloo_, and partly crawled out with a view to looking about, but he
was nearly smothered by drift, and quickly drew back again into the
_igloo_ and replaced the snow block.
"The poor lads!" said he. "God help and pity them, and" he added
reverently, "if it be Thy will, O God, preserve their lives."
Skipper Ed finally slipped into his sleeping bag and fell into a
troubled sleep, to awake, as morning approached, with a great weight
upon his heart, and with his waking moment came the realization of its
cause.
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