“I wish this thing would hurry,” said Nimbus impatiently. “We are not going more than five hundred miles an hour now. Mere dawdling, I call it.” “Crawling,” said Jack Frost. “I wonder how long it will be before we catch up to them,” said Billy. “Can’t tell,” said Nimbus. “Depends on whether we are going in their direction or not.” Suddenly Jack Frost gave a roar of rage. “Look there!” he shouted. “Just look there. It took me centuries to make that glacier, and now look at it. Isn’t that a shame?” Below them, where a range of snowy mountains skirted the sea, they saw a long dark streak which, when more closely observed, proved to be a mountain area entirely bared of snow and leading like a great broad road to the north. “That’s what that wretched Equator has been doing,” said Jack Frost sadly. “He’s spoiled a glacier that was a work of art--almost my masterpiece. I suppose when I get up to the North Pole I’ll find he has melted that. And if he has, it’ll spoil. You cannot possibly keep a North Pole unless you keep it on ice.” “But,” cried Nimbus, who plainly did not share Jack Frost’s annoyance, “we can trace him now. That is where he must have lighted. Let’s go down there and see if we can find any trace of the Evening Star.” He had hardly spoken when the car began rapidly to descend, and presently it was resting on a mountain top between two tall ice cliffs. Jack Frost looked at them ruefully. “That was my glacier,” he said. “My beautiful glacier--one of the best I ever built. And now look at it. Ruined, utterly ruined.” Nimbus, who had been searching over the rocks, uttered a cry of pleasure. “Look here,” he said. “The Equator got here first. The Evening Star did not come till later. So she is probably safe, after all.” “How do you know that?” said Jack Frost. “See,” said Nimbus. “When he got here and cleaned the snow off”--Jack Frost grunted disgustedly--“the flowers began to spring up. Here are daisies and buttercups and forget-me-nots and violets and trilliums, all growing where he turned the heat on.” “I don’t see that that proves anything,” said Jack Frost. “But it does,” said Nimbus, “whether you see it or not. After they grew and blossomed somebody came and picked lots of them. You can see where they have been snipped off.” “Well?” said Jack Frost. “It must have been the Evening Star,” continued Nimbus. “She’s very fond of flowers, you know, and nobody else could get here.” “Humph!” said Jack Frost; “there may be something in that. But whether there is or not, I must rebuild this glacier, or at least start it. I’ll begin by cutting down these flowers.” “Oh, please don’t!” said Billy. “They look so pretty here among the snowdrifts. Let them just stay for a while anyway.” “All right,” said Jack Frost, “for a while, if it will please you. But I want you to understand that they are in the way of the loveliest glacier that----”