“Now, now! nothing to be excited about,” he warned. “You’ve been away from home so you haven’t heard. Your friend Bill got clawed up a bit by a bear. Say!” his voice rose. “Want to come in here and sit on a stool while I tell you? I’m dying for a cup of coffee.”
“Al—all right.”
Three minutes later, their feet dangling from stools, they were drinking coffee, munching doughnuts, and talking.
“So you see,” the aviator ended his story, “your cousin did me a mighty fine turn. I got a good fee for bringing those hunters out and so if you or he ever need a lift, just signal me by Morse code or any other way and I’ll turn my motor over P.D.Q.
“Of course,” he added, “I’m off to Nome tomorrow, but I’ll be back. Back before you know it. Not such a long trip that.
“But say!” he exclaimed. “What’s the matter?” The girl’s face had turned purple.
“Choked! Well, I’ll be! Here, let me—” He began pounding her on the back.
“Just—just a—a—piece of dough—doughnut,” she managed to sputter at last. “Went—dow—down the wrong way.”
“Do you get that way often?” he grinned.
“Only when people tell me they’re going to Nome.”