“We might have charades, or tableaux,” suggested Fred. “But we should have to stay below, getting ready for them.”
“And we’ve had ’em all before,” interpolated Tom, who was stretched out at his ease in a steamer chair.
“It’s going to be pretty foggy, I’m afraid,” said Randolph, joining the group. “They say that will delay us, for we shall have to run half-speed, or stop altogether. Do you see how thick it begins to look ahead?”
They had left Sitka in the early morning, and had only Juneau to touch at—probably in the night—before reaching the coaling station of Nanaimo, on Vancouver’s Island.
“Why don’t you get up a paper?” suggested Mr. Percival. “That’s what Arctic explorers do, I believe, when they are frozen in for the winter.”
“Good, good!” cried Pet. “And everybody in our party must contribute—except me!”
There was a laugh at this, and Kittie, seizing her friend around the waist, gave her a little impromptu waltz which set her hair flying and eyes dancing more merrily than ever.
“What shall we call it?” was the next question.
“‘The Alaskan Herald.’”
“‘The Northern Light.’”