“Are you not as happy as me, daddy?” asked the boy, with a sudden glance of intelligence.
“Happier a great deal, I should say,” replied the father, “for I’m not so much of a goose.”
“Why then, daddy, if you are happier than we, what you call the enthusiasm of youth can have nothing to do with it, you know!”
“You young rascal, the enthusiasm of middle age is much more powerful than that of youth! You let your tongue wag too freely.”
“D’ye hear that, Osky?” said Oliver to his little companion in an audible whisper. “There’s comfort for you an’ me. We’ll be more enthusiastic and far happier when we come to middle age! What d’ye think o’ that?”
Oscar—who, although much inclined to fun and humour, did not always understand the curious phases of them presented to him by his civilised friend—looked innocently in his face and said, “Me no tink about it at all!” Whereupon Olly burst into a short laugh, and expressed his belief that, on the whole, that state of mind was about the happiest he could come to.
“How long, think you, will it take us to reach the wigwams of your kindred from this point?” asked Hendrick of their guide, as he prepared to lie down for the night.
“Two days,” answered the Indian.
“God grant that we may be in time,” murmured Paul, “I fear a thaw, for it would delay us greatly.”
That which was feared came upon them the next day. They were yet asleep when those balmy influences, which alone have power to disrupt and destroy the ice-king’s reign, began to work, and when the travellers awoke, the surface of the land was moist. It was not soft, however, for time is required to draw frost out of the earth, so that progress was not much impeded. Still, the effect of the thaw depressed their spirits a good deal, for they were well aware that a continuance of it would render the low grounds, into which they had frequently to descend, almost impassable.