“Hid it?” Florence wanted to ask. “How can you hide a gold mine?” She did not ask. She would wait and see for herself. Long ago she had learned the uselessness of asking questions when a little patient waiting would permit one to answer them for oneself.
A short time later, in the shadow of a fir tree, she cut the threads that closed that small beaded bag, then shook into her hand three bits of ivory. Two were white, the long, sharp teeth of a fox, and one was black as night, the tooth of a seal. This black one had been buried perhaps for hundreds of years beneath the sands of the sea.
“Good luck charm,” she murmured. “Wonder if it will bring good luck to us.”
Hours later, in a dreamy sort of way she was wondering this all over again. There was need at this moment for luck.
She was seated beside the coals of a campfire. The moon in all its glory hung above her. Stretching across the sky the Milky Way seemed a scarf of finest lace.
Her eyes, however, were not much upon the sky. They roved the snowy slopes. They took in every clump of fir and spruce. They rested with pleasure upon the brown spots that were, she knew, sleeping reindeer. She was guarding camp. They had decided that it was best to keep a watch. Jodie had all but insisted upon keeping her watch, but to this she would not listen.
“I’m as good a man as you are, even if I am a girl,” was her laughing challenge.
“Chuckches,” she was thinking, “how would natives of Siberia come so far?” And yet, the charm in her pocket had come from Russia—Siberia—the Arctic coast of Asia. At-a-tak had assured her of that. How strange!
Then she thought of the hidden mine. They would be there tomorrow. A feeling of pleased excitement, like the day before Christmas, ran through her being. Be there tomorrow. Would they? Perhaps there was no mine worthy of the name—only an old man’s dream. Well, even this had to be proved tomorrow. Tomorrow—
She started from this reverie, then listened sharply. Had there come an unaccustomed sound, like someone talking low in the distance?