<h2 id="c13"><br/>CHAPTER XIII <br/>THE LONG TRAIL</h2>
<p>At nightfall of the following day, worn from
the constant travel, and walking as if in their
sleep, the two girls came to the junction of the
two forks of a modest sized river. The frozen
stream, coated as it was by a hard crust of snow,
had given them a perfect trail over the last
ten miles of travel. Before that they had crossed
endless tiers of low-lying hills whose hard packed
and treacherously slippery sides had brought grief
to them and to their reindeer. Twice an overturned
sled had dragged a reindeer off his feet,
and reindeer, sled and driver had gone rolling
and tumbling down the hill to be piled in a heap
in the gully below.</p>
<p>Those had been trying hours; but now they
were looking forward to many miles of smooth
going between the banks of this river.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div>
<p>First, however, there must be rest and food
for them and for their deer. They were watching
the shelving bank for some likely place to
camp, where there was shelter from the biting
wind and driftwood lodged along the bank for
a fire. Then, with a little cry of surprise,
Marian pointed at a bend in the river.</p>
<p>“At this point,” she said, “the river runs
southwest.”</p>
<p>Attatak looked straight down the river and at
the low sweeping banks beyond, then uttered a
low: “<i>Eh-eh</i>,” in agreement.</p>
<p>“That means that we cannot follow the river,”
said Marian. “Our course runs northwest.
Every mile travelled on the river takes us off our
course and lessens our chance of reaching our
goal in time.”</p>
<p>“What shall we do?” asked Attatak, in perplexity.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
<p>“Let me think,” said Marian. “There is time
enough to decide. We must camp here. The
deer must have food and rest. So must we.
There is not much danger of wolves. If any
come prowling around, the deer will let us know
soon enough. We will sleep on our sleds and
if anything goes wrong, the deer, tethered to the
sleds, will tumble us out of our beds. Anyway,
they will waken us.”</p>
<p>Soon supper was over. The deer, having
had their fill of moss dug from beneath the snow,
had lain down to rest. The girls spread their
sleeping bags out upon the sleds and prepared
for a few hours of much needed rest. Attatak,
with the carefree unconcern that is characteristic
of her race, had scarcely buried her face in an
improvised pillow when she was fast asleep.</p>
<p>Sleep did not come so quickly to Marian.
Many matters of interest lingered in her mind.
It was as if her mind were a room all littered up
with the odds and ends of a day’s work. She
must put it to rights before she could sleep.</p>
<p>She thought once more of the strange treasures
they had brought from the cave. Tired
as she was, she was tempted to get out those
articles and look at them, and to brush them
up a bit and see what they were like.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
<p>“I know it’s foolish,” she told herself, “but
it’s exactly as if I had hung up my stocking on
Christmas Eve, and then when Christmas morning
came, had been obliged to seize my stocking
without so much as a glance inside, and forced
to start at once on a long journey which would
offer me no opportunity to examine my stocking
until the journey was at an end. But I won’t
look; not now. It’s too cold. Brr-r,” she shivered.</p>
<p>As she drew herself farther down into the
furry depths of her sleeping bag, she was reminded
of the time she and Patsy had slept together
beneath the stars. She could not help
wishing that Patsy was with her now, sharing
her sleeping bag, and looking up at the gleaming
Milky Way.</p>
<p>She wondered vaguely how Patsy was getting
on with the herd, but the thought did not greatly
disturb her. She was about to drift off to the
land of dreams, when a thought popped into her
mind that brought her up wide awake again.
Their morning’s course was not yet laid. What
should it be?</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
<p>She closed her eyes and tried to think. Then,
like a flash, it came to her.</p>
<p>“It’s the hard way,” she whispered to herself.
“Seems as if it were always the hard way
that is safe and sure.”</p>
<p>The thought that had come to her was this:
In order to reach their destination, they must
still travel several miles north. The river they
were following flowed southwest. To go south
was to go out of their way. Were they to strike
due north, across country, they might in the
course of a day’s travel come to another stream
which did not angle toward the south. That
would mean infinitely hard travel over snow
that was soft and yielding, and across tundra
whose frozen caribou bogs were as rough as a
cordwood road.</p>
<p>“It’s the long, hard way,” she sighed, “but we
may win. If we follow this river we never can.”</p>
<p>Then, with all her problems put in order, she
fell asleep.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
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