At this instant something happened; the goats gave a jump which sent a cloud of fine snow up into the boys’ faces; the sled gave a great leap and on a sudden they began to tear along like the wind. The snow-fields flew by them, and the trees, standing up to their knees in snow, simply tore along to the rear.
“They are running away!” said Tommy, as soon as he could catch his breath.
“All right. Let them run,” said Johnny. “But steer by the North Star.” And so they did.
When the cloud of snow in their faces cleared away, Tommy could scarcely believe his eyes.
“Look, Johnny!” he cried. “They are real reindeer. Real live ones. Look at their antlers.”
“I know,” said Johnny. “That little man said he wanted to swap with me.”
So they flew on, up hill and down dale, over fields of white snow where the fences and rocks were buried and the cuts were filled up level; down frozen streams, winding through great forests where the pines were mantled with white; in between great walls of black rock towering above them, with the stars shining down like fires; out again across the vast stretches of snow with the Pole Star ever twisting and turning and coming before them again, until the sky seemed lit up with wonderful colours, and great bands of light were shooting up and sinking down only to shoot up again with a crackling like packs of pop-crackers in the distance.
They flew on, over fields of white snow.