“I don’t want exercise. I want something to warm me up on the inside,” protested Stacy.
Grace and Elfreda, holding hands, were already dancing about in grotesque fashion, taking long draughts of air into their lungs, the color rising to their faces as the circulation of their blood responded to their lively movements.
“Never mind, folks,” comforted Hippy. “If you will all take a lively sprint, then a snow-wash, I will give you something that will please you and fix you up in great shape.”
“I shall be past all human help long before that,” answered Emma.
“Why don’t you transmigrate yourself to a warmer clime for an hour or so?” suggested Stacy.
Tom Gray nodded to Hippy, whereupon Lieutenant Wingate took from his pack a tiny alcohol stove, which he filled from a small bottle and lighted. Over the stove he placed a coffee pot full of white snow dug from underneath the crust where it was not tainted with what Stacy had been pleased to characterize as a “turpentine taste.” As the snow melted in the coffee pot, more snow was added until there was sufficient for their use. The Overlanders, quickly discovering that something unusual was going on, ran to the coffee-maker.
“Wha—at’s this?” demanded Elfreda.
“An alcohol stove—a hot cup of coffee for each in a few moments,” chuckled Lieutenant Wingate.
“Hippy Wingate, did you have that last night?” demanded Emma.
“Yes.”