“We’ll make the record trip!”
“—Make the big fortunes!”
“We’ll beat creation!”
“Splendid fellow, our captain!”
Never such luck before in this bedeviled course.
Toward three o’clock the next morning Hildegarde was waked by the noise of hurrying feet above her head and a great hubbub in the saloon.
“Mrs. Locke?” Her berth was empty.
In the narrow cabin two half-dressed women were agitatedly hunting their belongings, while the dressmaker, Miss Tillie Jump, screamed through the door to know if there was any danger.
“What’s happened?” asked Hildegarde, tumbling down out of her berth.
“We are in the ice.”