When Gemini, the twins, were finished, the blackboard looked like this, and since the children’s fingers were so stiff with the cold that they could hardly hold the chalk, Uncle Henry moved that the Society of Star-Gazers adjourn until the next evening.
SECOND WINTER EVENING
IN WHICH THE DOGS OF ORION AND GEMINI FOLLOW THEIR MASTERS, PEGASUS ESCAPES AS USUAL, AND ANDROMEDA GETS A NICE SOFT BED OF HAY IN PLACE OF HER HARD OLD ROCK
“Uncle Hen,” said Peter, when the Society was assembled round the blackboard, in overcoats and mittens, on the following night, “what is that very bright star that is down behind Orion? It looks sort of important to me.”
“Right you are, Pete,” answered Uncle Henry, looking where the boy pointed, “it is important. It is the star Sirius, the brightest star in the whole sky. We’ll begin with it and find Orion’s dog, or Canis Major, which is Latin for ‘bigger dog.’”
“That’s great!” exclaimed Paul, “you told us last Summer that we’d find him this Christmas-time.”
“So I did,” agreed Uncle Henry. “Well, you can always find Orion’s dog by drawing a line through Orion’s belt and extending it behind him until it meets Sirius. ([22]) You can’t miss it because it’s so bright. Everybody see it?”
Everybody did.