“So is yours. My turn for thawing out.” His mitten was off, his warm hand on her cheek.
And thus Florence won Jodie’s complete approval.
That night the girl learned the joyous comfort of a long-haired deer skin sleeping-bag in a road house bunk. She slept the sleep of the just while the storm roared on.
Next day, with the wind down and the sun creeping low above the jagged outline of snow-topped mountains, they journeyed slowly homeward, Florence, Jodie, and the racing team.
CHAPTER XII
HER GREAT DISCOVERY
Of all the girls in the Fresh-Dough Club, Florence liked Alene Bowman best. Alene was quiet and, for a girl of the North, very modest. She was greatly interested in the social events of the season and especially in the annual dog race.
“There’s one thing I’d like to ask you,” Florence said to her, the day after her return from that trip up the coast. “What do you think would happen if a girl entered the race?”
“What?” Alene stared for a space of ten seconds. “Why, nothing, I guess. This is the North, you know. You thinking of going in?”
“No-o,” Florence spoke slowly. “Of course, I wouldn’t go in against Jodie, unless—”
“Unless you felt sure he couldn’t win and that perhaps you could,” Alene suggested.