"Well, on the ice, then. Don't ye see it lyin' black there against the snow?"

"Yes—yes, I see it," said Phœbe.

"Well, that's what I'm goin' to hitch the holdin' rope on to. You'll see how it's done presently."

He glanced at the clock.

"Seven o'clock," he said. "I guessed mighty close when I said 'twould take us twenty hours. We left Peltonville at ten-thirty last night."

"Seven o'clock!" cried Rebecca. "So 'tis. Why, what's the matter with the sun. Ain't it goin' to set at all?"

"Not much!" said Droop, chuckling. "Sun don't set up here, Cousin Rebecca. Not until winter-time, an' then et stays set till summer again."

"Well!" was the breathless reply. "An' where in creation does it go when it stays set?"

"Why, Rebecca," exclaimed Phœbe, "the sun is south of the equator in winter, you know."

"Shinin' on the South Pole then," Droop added, nodding.