the dogs
increased their pace to a steady, rapid trot.

The weather was fearfully cold. The runners of the sledge squeaked and
creaked. Frost flakes on the hard packed snow glistened and scintillated
in the moonlight and soon the _netseks_ of the travelers were covered
with white hoar frost, ice formed upon their eyelashes and Skipper Ed's
breath froze upon his beard until presently his face was almost hidden
by a mass of ice.

They ran by the side of the _komatiks_ to keep warm, only now and again
riding for a little way to rest, and as they ran or walked they chatted
gaily, contemptuous of the cold, and keenly enjoying in anticipation the
sport and adventure in store for them.

And so they traveled for three full hours before the first hint of
daylight came stealing up over the white horizon in the southeast, and
at length, very slowly, as though reluctant to show his face, and
uncertain of his welcome, the sun peeked timidly over the ice field.
Then, reassured, he boldly lifted his round, glowing face full into
view, giving cheer and promise to the frozen world.

To the sledge traveler the dreariest hour of the day, and the hour of
bitterest cold, is that immediately preceding sunrise. As though by
consent our three friends during this period fell into silence,
and none spoke until the sun looked out over the ice, and the frost-covered
snow--each frost flake a miniature prism--was set a-sparkling and
a-glinting as though the snow was thick sown with diamonds.

[Illustration: They ran by the side of the _komatiks_ to keep warm]

"Glorious! Isn't it glorious!" exclaimed Bobby, dropping by Jimmy's
side upon the _komatik_, and removing a hand from its mitten for a
moment to pick small particles of ice from his eyelashes.

Jimmy for answer drew his right hand from its mitten, and clapping it
over Bobby's nose began to rub the member vigorously.

"There, now it's all right," said he, donning his mitten again after a
minute or two of rubbing. "Your nose was going dead.[E] The end of it
was white."

[E] Freezing.

"I never felt it," laughed Bobby. "Just look at the Skipper back there.
He's a perfect image of Santa Claus!"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Jimmy, looking back at Skipper Ed. "He's exactly
like the picture of Santa Claus in that old magazine you and I used to
look at so much, only a good deal more real."

"If he was driving reindeers, now, instead of dogs," laughed Bobby, "and
I met him with all that ice on