“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” cried Fred explosively. “Who says the Eskimo is an unfriendly beggar, I’d like to know! From this time on, if anybody says anything to me against an Eskimo, I’ll show him where he gets off, all right.”
“Giving us our dinner for nothing and then giving up their house for the night to a bunch of strangers!” marveled Mouser. “Well, I’ll say they’re regular sports, all right.”
“You bet,” said Billy. “How do they know we’re not a bunch of crooks?”
“Mouser, I’m surprised at you,” said Fred gravely. “All they have to do is look at us to tell we’re honest. Where are you going, Bobby?”
For Bobby had turned toward the door and brushed away the skins that covered it.
“Going to have a look at that blizzard,” he answered, “to see what our prospects are for to-morrow.”
The other boys followed him, but they were met by a driving gust of wind and snow that drove them back to the shelter of the igloo again.
“Some storm!” whistled Bobby, as they instinctively moved over to the stove where the fire was still hot. “Hate to be adrift in it without a home to-night, fellows.”
“But that’s just where we were only a few hours ago,” Mouser reminded him soberly. “We couldn’t have lasted much longer in that open boat.”
“Forget it, can’t you?” protested Fred uncomfortably. “Just the memory of it makes me cold. Say, this fire feels good.”