“How soft!” murmured Patsy as she wound an arm about her cousin’s neck, then lay staring up at the stars.
“How warm!” she whispered again five minutes later.
“Yes,” Marian whispered, as though they were sleeping at home and might disturb the household by speaking aloud. “You see, this bag is made of the long haired winter skins of reindeer. The hair is a solid mat more than an inch thick. The skin keeps out the wind. With the foot and the sides of it sewed up tight, you can’t possibly get cold, even if you sleep on the frozen ground.”
“How wonderful!” exclaimed Patsy. “It wouldn’t be a bit of use writing that to my friends. They simply wouldn’t believe it.”
“No, they wouldn’t.”
For a little time, with arms twined about one another, the cousins lay there in silence. Each, busy with her own thoughts, was not at all conscious of the bonds of human affection which the vast silence of the white wilderness was even now weaving about them. Bonds far stronger than their arms about one another’s neck, these were to carry them together through many a wild and mysterious adventure.
As if in anticipation of all this, Patsy snuggled a bit closer to Marian and said:
“I think this is going to be great!”
“Let’s hope so,” Marian answered.
“And will we really herd the reindeer?”