“But we will never be positively in the dark, I should think, while the stars are so brilliant?” Allan asked.
“We’ll have the glorious aurora borealis by-and-bye,” said McBain, “to say nothing of long spells of moonlight; but we are, as I said before, in the very centre of a land of wonders, and there will doubtless be nights when the storm spirit will be abroad in all his might and majesty, clothed in clouds and darkness, a darkness more intense and terrible than any we have ever experienced in our own country.”
“It is a good thing,” said Rory, “that you thought of taking such an array of beautiful lamps.”
Yes, Rory was right, it was a beautiful array. As Ralph remarked, “the Snowbird was strong in lamps.”
They hung in the passage, they hung in the snuggery, and four of them lit up the saloon, with a brightness almost equal to that of day itself.
And those lamps gave heat as well as light, but large fires were kept constantly roaring in the stoves. The stove that stood in the snuggery was a very large one, and to make the place all the more comfortable the deck was almost buried in skins—trophies of the prowess of our heroes in the hunting-field. And yet with all this it must be confessed that at times the cold was felt to be very severe; indeed, the thermometer kept steadily down many degrees below zero. There was one way of defying it during the day, however, and that way lay in action.
“Keep moving is my motto,” said Rory one day on the ice.
“Indeed, Rory boy,” said McBain, “you act well up to it; if I were asked to define you now, do you know the words I would use?”
“No,” said Rory.
“Perpetual motion personified,” said McBain.