Free, free! What did anything matter, now that they had broken away from Captain Garrish and his ship? They were free!
“All we have to do now,” cried Mouser jubilantly, “is to think about getting home.” Strangely enough, instead of cheering them, this thought put a sudden damper on their enthusiasm. Home! How unattainable and far away it seemed! What would any one of them give to be sitting now in a familiar room, before a glowing fire, with familiar faces surrounding him?
Their imaginations dwelt longest on the fire. “Say, just think of it! A crackling, joyful, leaping fire, in exchange for this deadly cold that threatens to freeze our very bones!” exclaimed Fred.
For a long time after this remark the boys were silent, working hard to fight off the feeling of drowsiness that was creeping upon them, blowing upon their gloved hands now and then to drive the numbness from them.
“Home was never like this,” said Billy at last, in a tone he tried hard to make cheerful.
“I never knew it could be so cold,” said Mouser. “I’ve read enough about it,” said Fred, adding, with an attempt to stretch his stiff mouth into a grin: “But it has to be seen to be appreciated.”
“Say,” said Bobby, putting out a match after another look at the compass, “what’s the matter with you, Billy? Can’t you give us a joke or something?”
“The last time I tried,” said Billy, wondering if his feet were still at the end of his legs—he could not tell, for there seemed to be no feeling in them whatever—“perhaps you remember that I was greeted with laughter and ridicule—a large amount of it.”
“That’s all right, Billy; you’re perfectly safe now,” said Fred. “Nobody could laugh at your rottenest attempt now. It can’t be done. I know—because I’ve tried.”
“Well, if you’re sure you want to hear one—” began Billy, and for once, as he hesitated, the other boys answered an enthusiastic affirmative. Bad as Billy’s jokes usually were, they would be welcome now—anything to make them forget, if even for a moment, how deadly cold they were.