“Look,” she said to her cousin, pointing away to the clouds.
Together, with bated breaths, they watched the panorama that moved before them. Now they saw the herders and their dogs, saw them run this way and that; saw the herd change its course, saw the herders again take up the steady march.
“Why,” exclaimed Patsy, “Seems as if you could hear the crack-crack of reindeer hoofs and the bark of the dogs!”
“They must be miles away. It’s the Scarberry herd,” said Marian.
“Look,” whispered Patsy, “the deer are stopping.”
It was true. Having come to an abrupt halt, as if facing an insurmountable barrier, the leaders compelled those that followed to pack in a solid mass behind them or to spread out to right or left. In an incredibly short time they stood out in a straight line, facing east.
“It—it must be a river, a river that is still open, that cannot be crossed,” said Marian in tones of tense excitement.
“And that means!” exclaimed Patsy.
“That our rival has been stopped. Nature has brought them to a halt. We may win yet. Let’s hurry. We may find a crossing-place in the forest.”
“But look, look over there to the left!” cried Patsy.