“In other words,” said Billie, trying her best to speak gayly while her heart sank at this unusually long speech of Teddy’s, “we’re lost, aren’t we?”
“I guess it amounts to that,” Teddy answered soberly, and for a long minute they just stood staring at each other.
Then Billie gave herself an impatient little shake.
“Help me out of this,” she said, as she tried to push through the heavy snow that seemed to press in upon her from every side. “I’d like to have a look around, anyway.”
She found that even with Teddy’s help it was no easy task to clamber out of the snowdrift that she had fallen into, and both she and the boy were panting with exertion when they had finally managed to get out into the open.
Even there they stood up to their waists in the clinging snow, and Billie, looking desolately out over the white expanse, began to realize that she was very, very cold.
“There’s the sled,” said Teddy, pointing to two runners sticking out of the snow and marking the spot where the sled had struck. “Wait here and I’ll get it.”
Billie watched him as he struggled through the drifts, and suddenly she was aware of an overwhelming desire to sit down where she was and cry.
“But that wouldn’t do any good,” she told herself sharply, “even if this place does look more lonely than a desert. If we don’t get where it’s warm pretty soon we’ll turn into icicles ourselves, I guess.”
The wind had become stronger and more biting, and Billie’s teeth had begun to chatter. She was glad when Teddy floundered back to her, the rope of his sled looped over one arm. He slipped the other arm through hers protectingly.