  It was nearly an hour later when the tractor breasted the last grade and rolled down to the paved road where a dozen cars, all of them warmly heated and well lighted, were strung along the road. Anxious fathers and mothers were on hand, including Janet’s mother and Mrs. Thorne and they welcomed their thoroughly chilled daughters to their bosoms. Janet’s father shepherded them into their own sedan where despite the sub-zero cold the heater had kept the car comfortable. Then they started the final lap of their eventful trip from Youde’s home. Helen and Janet sank back on the cushions of the capacious rear seat, thoroughly worn out by their trying experience. Janet’s father, one of the most prominent attorneys in Clarion, slipped in behind the wheel, slamming the car door and shutting out the biting blast of air. There were other cars ahead of them and they made no attempt at high speed as they rolled back into the city. “How did you ever find us, Dad?” asked Janet. “You can thank the bus driver for that. Somehow he got through to a farmhouse. He was almost frozen, but he managed to tell them the story and they phoned word in to us.” “Who thought of the tractor and hayrack?” asked Helen, warm once more. “It was Hugh Grogan, Bernice’s father. He sells the caterpillars. Good thing he did or we’d never have gotten through.” “It was a good thing for Bernice, too. She was about all in,” said Janet. When they reached the Hardy home, Janet’s mother insisted that Helen and Mrs. Thorne come in and have a hot lunch before going to their own home. While the girls took off their coats and Mr. Hardy put the car into the garage, Mrs. Hardy bustled out into the kitchen where she had left a kettle of water simmering on the stove. Lunch was ready in short order, tea, peanut butter sandwiches, cookies and a large bowl of fruit. Janet and Helen had ravenous appetites and the sandwiches disappeared as though by magic. “How cold is it, Dad?” asked Janet. “Twenty-two below.” “The wind was awful,” said Helen, between bites at a sandwich. “I know. It was pretty fierce going across country in the hayrack. The boys must have used their heads for someone banked the bus with snow.” “That was Jim Barron’s idea. He and Ed Rickey kept us moving and talking most of the time, but we forgot Miss Bruder. She was in a draft and almost froze to death without saying a word to anyone.” “That scared us half to death,” put in Helen, “but the boys massaged her hands with snow and Janet and I massaged the upper part of her body until we could get the circulation going again. I think she’ll be all right, but probably pretty sensitive to cold for the rest of the winter.” “But the winter’s almost over. Here it’s late March. Who’d ever have thought we’d have a storm like this,” said Janet. “If I had, I can assure you that you’d never have made the trip to Youde’s tonight,” promised her father. “It was one of those freak storms that sometimes sweep down from the Arctic circle and fool even the weather men. By tomorrow the temperature will shoot up and the snow will melt so fast we’ll probably have a flood.” The girls finished every sandwich on the plate and drank two cups of tea apiece. It was five o’clock when they left the table. Mrs. Thorne and Helen started to put on their coats, but Janet’s mother objected. “Your house will be cold and our guest room upstairs is all made up. Janet and I will lend you whatever you need. We’ll all get to bed now.” Janet got warm pajamas for Helen and then went to her own room. Warm and inviting in the soft rays of the rose-shaded lamp over her dressing table, it was a sanctuary after the exciting events of the night. A wave of drowsiness assailed Janet, and it was with difficulty that she unlaced and pulled off her boots. Somehow she managed to crawl into her pajamas and roll into bed, but she was asleep before she could remember to turn off the light. Her mother, looking in a few minutes later, pulled the blankets up around Janet’s shoulders, opened the window just a crack to let in a whiff of fresh air, and turned off the light. Janet slept a heavy and dreamless sleep. When she awakened the sun was streaming in the windows and from the angle she could tell that it was late. But in spite of the knowledge that she would probably be extremely late in getting to school, Janet was too deliciously comfortable to move rapidly. After stretching leisurely, she got out of bed and closed the window. The radiator in her room was bubbling gently and she slipped into bed to wait until the room warmed up. Vivid thoughts of what had happened during the night rotated in her mind, the cold, the wind, the snow—the terror of waiting in Little Deer valley for the rescue, hoping but not knowing for sure that they would be reached in time to save them from the relentless cold. Someone opened Janet’s door and peered in. It was Helen, who, on seeing that her friend was awake, bounced into the room. “You look pretty live and wide awake after last night,” smiled Janet. “I’m not only that, I’m ravenously hungry,” said Helen, “and if you had been out in the hall and caught a whiff of the breakfast your mother is preparing you would be too.” “What time is it?” “Well, you can call it breakfast or lunch, depending on whether you’ve had breakfast. For me it’s breakfast even though the clock says it’s just a little after eleven.” “You’re seeing things,” retorted Janet, throwing off the covers and hurrying toward her wardrobe. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I am, but your mother says it is after eleven and I’ll take her word for it. I’ll run down and tell her you’ll be along within the hour.” “That isn’t fair. You know it won’t be more than five minutes. I always dress faster than you do.” |
|
