"Br-r-r-r, it's cold," said Billy the next morning when he arose: "if my suit were not full of hot air I believe I should freeze. I wish, though, I had some warm things to put on; it looks like snow." And he swung his arms and blew on his blue fingers and rubbed the tip of his nose to be sure it was still there.

"Why, hello, what's this?" for while he was exercising, the Singing Tree had sung softly:

and now stood holding a complete suit of nice heavy, warm rabbit skins. Either Baby Bunting was a very large baby, or when papa had skinned the rabbit (which must have been a giant one) he found it much too large for Baby Bunting. However that may be, Billy jumped into it in a jiffy and found that it fitted him to perfection. And what a fine time Barker had with it! He crouched low, and then with yelps of delight jumped up and down on Billy's legs. He was playing that he had sighted a great big rabbit, and Billy joined in by running around the tree and back and forth with Barker in hot pursuit. Finally Billy stowed him away warmly inside and doggy went sound asleep, very, very much contented. Then with a leap Billy was off.

Billy had not been away from the earth very long when a snowflake lit on his nose—then another and another, until they came down so thick and fast that he could not see a foot ahead of him, which wasn't strange, for his feet were under him.

"My, my," he said, laughing, "Mother Goose must be picking a whole flock of geese to-day—gracious, I'm glad dear old Singing Tree gave me this nice suit; it's as warm as toast and keeps out the snow better than a whole store full of umbrellas and mackintoshes."

And the snow fell thicker and faster, while it grew colder and colder, but Billy didn't mind that for he was nice and warm. Then the snow suddenly stopped, and looking beneath him Billy saw a great white field of snow with here and there mountains of ice and occasional patches of blue, cold-looking water. And there by the water's edge sat a white bear: indeed he seemed almost to be sitting in the water, so close to the edge was he, his face turned toward the land. As soon as Billy struck the ground, which he did within a few feet of the bear, he recognized him as an old, old friend, Fuzzy White.

"Why, hello Fuzzy White, what are you doing here?"

"Fishing," said Fuzzy, "don't talk, please, I've just had a nibble."

"Where's your line," asked Billy in surprise, for he couldn't see any line or pole, and certainly Fuzzy was not faced the right way for fishing so far as Billy could see.

"Sh! h—," said Fuzzy, raising a paw in warning, "there I've got him," and turning around quickly he showed a can of sardines clinging tightly to his button of a tail.

"Is that your line?" asked Billy.

"Certainly, line, bait, and pole—it gets cold sometimes hanging one's tail in the water for an hour or two, but one must eat."

"But that's a can of sardines," said Billy.

"Yes, and I hope they are the best French, with pure olive oil. This isn't a good season for the fine sardine cans to bite; though the big Maine Mustard variety are very easy to catch—ah-h-h, these are the good ones." And Fuzzy with great eagerness opened the can with his claw and gulped down the contents.

"Do you really catch canned sardines?"

"Of course—I can't bear raw fish, I suppose that's from living in civilization so long. I find that a little lemon juice on my tail makes the canned varieties bite splendidly."

"How wonderful," murmured Billy.

"Well, well, Billy Bounce, what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last? How you've grown."

"I've been pretty well, I thank you—what are you doing now?"

"Nothing much," said Fuzzy sadly. "I came up here to go in the ice business, but I found that old Boreas was the ice man and had a corner on the market, so I'm just looking about for something to turn up. What are you doing?"

"I'm carrying a message to Bogie Man," said Billy.

"You're nearly there then," said Fuzzy, pointing out over the ice fields, "it's just beyond Aurora Borealis and back again ten thousand miles."

"Back again ten thousand miles—isn't that pretty far?"

"Not very, they are imaginary miles, much shorter than the regular kind."

"Who is that whistling?" interrupted Billy.

"That's old Boreas—he must have just made a good deal in ice and is whistling over it—by the way, he's a good friend to Bogie Man and Nickel Plate."

"Then he's no friend of mine."

"I shouldn't fear him," said Fuzzy, "he's a fearful blow-hard, and though he's certainly cold blooded, he makes more noise than anything else."

"Talking about me, were you?" said Boreas, arriving in a swirl of snow and clicking the ice tongs he held in his hand.

"We—we merely mentioned your name," said Billy, trying to turn his back on him. But that was useless, for old Boreas faced him whichever way he turned.

"You can't escape me that way," and he threw a handful of snow in Billy's face.

"Stop it!" cried Billy, "it's no joke to treat a fellow this way."

"Of course it is," said Boreas, jumping over Billy's head.

"Is what?" asked Billy.

"Snow joke, of course—I feel frisky this morning and I must have my joke."

"You're always frisky," said Fuzzy White sulkily.

"Who wouldn't be—I just exchanged my old bicycle for an icicle this morning and it works like a charm," said Boreas.

"I suppose you travel rather fast," said Billy, hoping to keep his mind off of Nickel Plate and Bogie Man.

"Fast," answered Boreas, puffing his chest way out, "fast—why, while you are jumping three miles, I will have run a hundred."

"That's blowing," murmured Fuzzy White.

"Then you recognize me?" said Billy.

"Of course I do—South Wind blew in here one day and warned me that you were coming."

"Let's change the subject," said Fuzzy White nervously.

"Yes," said Billy eagerly, "you, you whistle very well, Mr. Boreas."

"I pride myself on my whistling," said Boreas, lifting up a block of ice with his tongs and throwing it over his shoulder. "But to return to yourself, Billy Bounce—you will have to go back home."

"I'd like to oblige you," said Billy sturdily, "but I can't."

"Oh! you can't, can't you—we'll see about that," and Boreas ran actively around Billy, cuffing him in the face and over the ears—it seemed a thousand places all at once, whistling dismally all the time.

"Look out for his teeth," shouted Fuzzy White. "If you once get in the teeth of the wind, he will bite your nose and ears and fingers and toes off."

"Now, do you think better of it?" said Boreas, coming to a sudden stop. "That was only half trying—next time I'll catch you in my ice tongs and carry you home."

"You can't frighten me," said Billy, patting Fuzzy White on the head. He didn't know quite why, but the feel of something that was friendly seemed to keep his courage up.

"Go it, old boy," whispered Fuzzy encouragingly.

"Wow-ow-ow! Oh-h-h-h-h!" howled Boreas, "you say I can't frighten you—why, I've frightened little boys and girls all my life. Every winter I howl and whistle my way around the world, and the way I make the branches creak and the windows rattle through the long, dark nights is a caution. Why, even Bogie Man says that next to him I'm the greatest frightener in the world."

"I don't care, I'm not afraid of you," said Billy. Which, I fear, was not quite the exact truth, for he didn't feel very easy when he looked at Boreas' long, sparkling white teeth and his tousled gray head and beard.

"Nor am I, even though you have got a corner on the ice market," said Fuzzy White, "for really you know you are an ice man."

This made Boreas furious, he stormed and howled and spluttered and beat Billy wildly on the chest, caught hold of him even and spun him round and round on the ice, but he couldn't knock him down nor lift him off his feet so long as Billy did not try to jump.

"You'll get out of breath if you keep that up much longer," said Billy, plucking up courage when he saw that Boreas could not really do him much damage. But it was a fatal speech, for with one loud yell Boreas leaped at Billy's face and tried to fasten his tongs in his nose.

It was a trying moment for Billy, he felt his nose turn pale with fright, and when Boreas' tongs touched it, it grew absolutely numb. Indeed, he had given his poor nose up for lost, and it would surely have been if Fuzzy White had not scooped up a paw full of snow and clapped it on Billy's nose just as Boreas began to clamp the tongs.

"Ou! wow-ow-o-ow!" screamed Boreas, jumping back, "ow! ow! I can't bite through snow," and he turned somersault after somersault on the ice in his fury.

"Thank you, Fuzzy," cried Billy, as he felt the blood return to his nose, "you have saved me, old fellow."

"That's nothing, I know his tricks better than you do."

Billy anxiously felt his nose with his fingers and found it all there and quite right.

"But I'll get you yet, Billy Bounce," howled Boreas, "and when I do I'll nip you hard."

"You're not so very fast or dangerous after all," said Billy laughing.

"Look out for him," whispered Fuzzy, "he has other tricks."

And sure enough, along raced Boreas, this time close to the ground, and before Billy knew it, he had caught him by the legs and was sliding him along the ice, right toward the cold water.

But Billy knew a trick worth two of that, and suddenly threw himself backwards.

"Plump—" he had fallen back, right on top of Boreas. "Ugh!" cried Boreas and lay still for a moment with the breath quite knocked out of him.

"Good for Billy," cried Fuzzy White. "You got him that time."

"So it seems," said Billy laughing.

"Wait until I get you up in the air," grunted Boreas, "I'll show you something then."

"You have been trying pretty hard all morning," answered Billy, "but you haven't shown me much yet."

My, my, my, how furious this made Boreas. He raged and tore around and above Billy and Fuzzy White, but they lay close to the ground, and though he gave them some pretty hard kicks, he could not budge them.

"If he keeps this up, he will tire himself out," laughed Fuzzy to Billy. "He's getting to be a pretty old man for such violent exercise, and the first thing he knows his wind will give out."

"I'd like to stand up though," said Billy, "I'm afraid I'll catch cold."

"Catch cold—" cried Boreas, stopping suddenly, "catch cold—why you couldn't catch anything."

"That's all you know about it," said Billy.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," panted Boreas, "I'll give you a start of a hundred ice floes and beat you down to that iceberg two miles away."

"Done," cried Billy, winking at Fuzzy—"but I'll be generous—I'll give you the start."

"What shall we bet," asked Boreas.

"I don't bet," said Billy.

"Well, we will do this—if I catch you, you must give up searching for Bogie Man—if I don't, you may continue your journey." And Boreas chuckled to himself, for he intended putting Squall, one of his children, in Billy's way so that he couldn't jump any distance at all.

"Come here, Squall," he whispered softly.

"Screech—I am here," cried Squall, gaily settling down at his father's side.

"When that boy jumps, blow him in just the opposite direction than that in which I am going."

"Yes, sir, the opposite direction you say?" answered Squall.

"Yes!" Then calling to Billy he said, "Are you ready?"

Now Billy had heard just enough to know that Boreas was planning some trickery, so he decided quickly how to fool him.

"All ready," answered Billy, whispering "Good-bye" to Fuzzy White.

"Then go," cried Boreas and was off.

"Go," cried Billy, turning his back on Boreas and jumping in exactly the opposite direction and away toward Aurora Borealis.

Now Squall did not know any more than his father had told him, so of course he got right back of Billy and pushed him faster than ever away from his father, making him fairly hum through the air.

You can imagine how surprised Boreas was when he reached the Iceberg and turning around to see how far he had beaten Billy, found that he was sailing way, way off away from him, with Squall pushing him along with all his might and main. He was furious. "Come back, come back," he called to Squall, and the boy turned back obediently to meet his father.

"He has not escaped me yet," cried Boreas, jumping after Billy—and it is very doubtful indeed if he would have escaped had Squall not been so anxious to do just what his father said, for back he came with his head down and his eyes shut, going as fast as he could.

Boreas, too, had closed his eyes when he jumped after Billy, and so neither knew that the other was near until they went bump right into each other. "Ouch! Ugh!" they cried and fell to the ground, the breath knocked completely out of them. And so Billy sailed far, far away toward Aurora Borealis and safe from Boreas and Squall.