Quonab sprung to his feet, and then to the lower side of the
hole. The toboggan had swung to the same place and the long trace
was tight; without a moment's delay the Indian hauled at it
steadily, heavily, and in a few seconds the head of his companion
reappeared; still clutching that long trace he was safely dragged
from the ice-cold flood, blowing and gasping, shivering and
sopping, but otherwise unhurt.
Now here a new danger presented itself. The zero wind would soon
turn his clothes to boards. They stiffened in a few minutes, and
the Indian knew that frozen hands and feet were all too easy in
frozen clothes.
He made at once for the shore, and, seeking the heart of a spruce
thicket, lost no time in building two roaring fires between which
Rolf stood while the Indian made the bed, in which, as soon as he
could be stripped, the lad was glad to hide. Warm tea and warm
blankets made him warm, but it would take an hour or two to dry
his clothes. There is nothing more damaging than drying them too
quickly. Quonab made racks of poles and spent the next two hours
in regulating the fire, watching the clothes, and working the
moccasins.
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