“Tell you what,” exclaimed Lucile. “We’ll all get fixed nice and comfy for going to sleep, then we’ll spread ourselves out in the midst of all those wonderful rugs and you may read your book to us.”
“Yes, and you’ll be asleep in ten minutes,” laughed Marie.
“No, no! No we won’t,” they all exclaimed.
“Then it’s a bargain.”
A few moments later filmy pink and white garments vied in color and softness with the rugs of Arctic furs while Marie in a well modulated tone read the beginning of the story of Nowadluk, the belle of Alaska. The three companions were quite content to listen. The ways of life seemed once more very good to them. Their friends had been notified by radiophone of their safety. They were to return to-morrow or the day after. The wind had changed. The ice was already beginning to scatter.
Now and then Lucile or Marian would interrupt the reader to make a suggestion. When the end had been reached they were unanimous in their assurance that it promised to be a wonderful story. Their only regrets were that more of it was not completed.
A half hour later Lucile and Marian were asleep. Florence and Marie were talking in whispers. Florence had been relating their strange and weird experiences while living aboard the O Moo.
“So that’s why you thought I was held captive by the Negontisks?” Marie chuckled.
“But really,” she said presently, “there were some of those people in Chicago. May be yet, but no one knows.”
“Tell me about it,” Florence breathed excitedly.