I'm older than you and should have thought further and told you to hurry, so I'm most to blame.

And I can't help worrying about Partner and Abel and Mrs.Zachariah, and how they'll feel and what they'll do." "What's the use of worry?
You always get worrying and stewing, Jimmy, and you know it doesn't help things any and makes you miserable, and there's never been a time yet when it didn't turn out in the end that there never was anything to really worry about, after all.

If you keep on you'll get yourself scared.

Now quit it.

I was more at fault for getting us into the scrape than you were, and you know that too, and if you keep up this sort of talk I'll feel you're trying to rub it in." "Well, perhaps you're right," Jimmy admitted, and after a moment's silence suggested, as they rose to continue their efforts to make a shelter: "Bobby--let's ask God to take care of us." "Yes," agreed Bobby enthusiastically, "let's do; and then let's do our best to take care of ourselves, and help Him." They sank on their knees in the snow, and each in silence offered his own fervent prayer, while the wind drove the thick snow about them and shrieked and moaned weirdly through the hummocks, and the distant booming of the seas, and thunderous smashing of the ice on the outer edge of the floe, fell upon their ears with solemn, ominous foreboding.
"Now I'm going to look again for hard snow," said Bobby, when they rose presently.