"Better warm stuff at first," she explained, "He must be nearly frozen."
All this time the boy, with his look of fear gone, sat staring at them, his big brown eyes full of wonder.
"I'd like to know where he came from and how it is that he's alone," said Marian.
"So would I," said Lucile. "Well, anyway, we'll have to do the best we can for him. You know what it says somewhere about 'entertaining angels.'"
"Yes, and that reminds me. He must have a place to sleep. I'll go see what I can find."
She returned presently with an arm-load of deerskins.
"There's everything out there," she smiled, nodding toward the native village; "just as if they were gone overnight and would be back in the morning."
"I wonder," said Marian, with a little thrill, "if they will."
An hour later, with a pole propped solidly against the door, with the boy slumbering soundly in the opposite corner, and the seal-oil lamp flickering low, the girls once more gave themselves over to sleep.
When they awoke, they found the cabin encircled by a howling whirlwind of snow, one of those wild storms that come up so suddenly in Arctic seas and as suddenly subside.