"Cheer up!" said Marian. "You can never tell what will happen. Things change rapidly in this Arctic world. We'd better explore our ice-floe, hadn't we? And don't you think we could eat a bit before we go?"
Cheered by the very thought of something to be done, Lucile munched her half of the pilot biscuit and bit of reindeer meat contentedly.
Then, after they had seen to it that their white middy flag was properly fastened, for this must act as a guide back to camp, they prepared to go exploring.
Armed with the butcher knife, Lucile led the way. Marian carried the fishing tackle, and about her waist were wound the strings of the boola ball.
"Quite some hunters," laughed Marian. "Regular Robinson Crusoettes!"
Several wide circles of the camp revealed nothing but ice, the whiteness of which was relieved here and there by spots of water, black as night.
"Might be fish in them," suggested Marian.
"Yes, but you couldn't catch them. You can only catch tomcod through a hole in the ice."
They were becoming tired, and had spoken of turning back, when Marian whispered:
"Down!"