This was why they were remaining aboard the O Moo and studying rather than attempting to catch fish. “Might as well make the best of our time,” Florence had reasoned. To this the others had agreed but when she went on to say that she somehow felt that they would be back at the university for final exams, they shook their heads.
The food supply was growing lower with every meal. Six cans of the unknown fruits and vegetables had been opened and with all the perversity of unknown quantities had turned out to be fruit, pleasing but not nourishing.
“There’s some comfort in knowing that there are other people on the island, at that,” Lucile had argued. “They’ve probably got a supply of food and, rather than starve, we can cast ourselves upon their mercy.”
“How many of them do you suppose there are?” Marian suddenly looked up from her book to ask.
“Only saw one,” answered Florence, “but then of course there are others.”
“Strange we didn’t see any tracks when we went the rounds of the island.”
“Snowed the night before.”
“But people usually have things outside their igloos; sleds, boats and hunting gear.”
“Not when they’re in hiding. There might be fifty or a hundred of them. Nothing about an igloo shows unless you chance to walk right up to the entrance or the skylight. And we didn’t. We—”
She broke off abruptly as Lucile whispered. “What was that?”