The boat ready, Waring went the rounds for the last time. He brought
down wood for several days and stacked it, he looked again at all the
provisions and reckoned them over; then he rowed to the north shore,
visited his traps, called out the dogs from the little house he had
made for them, and bade them good by. 'I shall leave you for old Fog,'
he said; 'be good dogs, and bring in all you can for the castle.'
The dogs wagged their tails, and waited politely on the beach until he
was out of sight; but they did not seem to believe his story, and went
back to their house tranquilly without a howl. The day passed as
usual. Once the two men happened to meet in the passage-way. 'Silver
seems restless, we must wait till darkness,' said Fog in a low tone.
'Very well,' replied Waring.
At midnight they were off, rowing over the black water in the
sail-boat, hoping for a fair wind at dawn, as the boat was heavy. They
journeyed but slowly through the winding channel, leaving the
sedge-gate open; no danger now from intruders; the great giant,
Winter, had swallowed all lesser foes. It was cold, very cold, and
they stopped awhile at dawn on the edge of the marsh, the last shore,
to make a fire and heat some food before setting sail for the islands.
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