Indeed they did see him again and so close that Florence imagined herself looking at a pair of eyes burning their way out of a field of white.
“Oh! Ah!” she breathed.
“If that’s a dog,” Jodie exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, “he’s the whitest one I’ve ever seen.”
“There! He’s down!” Florence’s voice was tense with emotion. “Poor fellow! He must be hurt!”
“Who ever heard of a ghost being hurt?” Jodie laughed.
“There—there he goes!”
“This can’t last forever,” Jodie cracked a whip. His team sped on.
For a full half mile they burned up the trail, then with a suddenness that was startling, they all piled up in a heap at the back side of a snow bank. And there lying at Florence’s feet was one of the most piteous sights the girl’s eyes had rested upon: a collie dog, white as snow and so emaciated with hunger that every bone could be counted. He was whining piteously.
“Poor thing,” she murmured as she dug into her pack for cooked reindeer meat. “Poor old Phantom Leader!”
“Well, I’m dumbed!” was all Jodie could say. Tom Kennedy said nothing at all. At-a-tak stared as one must stare when, for the first time, he sees a ghost within his reach.