Perhaps it was because of her too close application to the radio-phone that she failed to note the approach of Scarberry’s herd as it returned to ravish their feeding ground. Certain it was that the first of the deer, with the entire herd close upon their heels, were already over the hills before she knew of their coming.
It was night when Terogloona brought this bit of disquieting news.
“And this time,” Patsy wailed, “we have not so much as one hungry Eskimo with his dog to send against them.”
As if in answer to the complaint, the aged herder plucked at her sleeve, then led her out beneath the open sky.
With an impressive gesture, he waved his arm toward the distant hills that lay in the opposite direction of Scarberry’s herd. To her great surprise and mystification, she saw gleaming there the lights of twenty or more campfires.
“U-bogok,” (see there) he said.
“What—what does it mean?” Patsy stammered, grasping at her dry throat.
“It is that I fear,” said Terogloona. “They come. To-morrow they are here. You gave food for a week for a few; flour, sugar, bacon. They like him. Now come whole village of Sitne-zok. Want food. You gave them food. What you think? No food for herders, no herders. No herders, no herd. What you think?”
Patsy did not know what to think. Gone was all her little burst of pride over the way she had handled the other situation that had confronted her. Now she felt that she was but a girl, a very small girl, and very, very much alone. She wished Marian would come. Oh, how she did wish that she would come!
“In the morning we will see what can be done,” was all she could say to the faithful old herder as she turned to re-enter the igloo.