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Show 1^2 the fur coat with one hand, the muff with the other, 'You could say that." When I think of the magnificent beauty of the Far North, I recall that night dashing home to our cabin on Gold Hill-Tip and I in the sled, Caribou standing behind, waving and shouting at the dogs. The nalamutes needed no driving, however. They knew they were going home, too. The snow snapped beneath our sled, and the harness bells jingled merrily. Overhead the stars glowed with a warmth I had not felt before. Suddenly the northern lights flashed across the sky in brilliant colors, crackling like fireworks. That was Pa, all right, racing around up there *Aith his torches-applauding. "I have done some thinking," Caribou called from behind. "Tipsy, how would you like to sing Saturday nights at Belinda' s hotel with this old man on guitar? No dancing, just singing?" "I'd like that," Tip exclaimed, jumping up to hug Caribou. "And also," she said, as the sled careened, "thank you both for rescuing me. I did not like the dancing." This was the closest to a family I had ever come-since Pa ana me. It felt too good to lose. Now I had something to say, and I just blurted it out. "After this gold rush is over, should we stay together? The three of us-and Josephine?" |