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Mackintosh seems to have believed that he and Hayward, travelling light, could get across to Cape Evans quickly before the weather broke, and if the blizzard had come two or three hours later they probably would have been safe. The two men carried no sleeping-bags and only a small meal of chocolate and seal meat. The weather during June was persistently bad.
He looked at her with a twinkle. She was very pretty, anyway; he was proud of her, too, deep down in his heart. No doubt after a bit they would be quite happy together. He finished the chocolate cake, and asked if he might smoke; he was longing for a cigarette. He was not quite sure if it would be correct to smoke in a room which would be chiefly used by Christine.
"They'll let me get near," said Varney heartily. "Chocolate is it, then? Lemonade, of course. And a thought of the cake with icing, shall we say? Good! But you're not here alone, are you?" "No, sir. I'm here with Miss Mary over there in that corner." "Well, you just run over there with her and wait. Trust everything here to me."
Mothers and sons were exchanging sounding kisses, followed by exclamations of "How hot you are, dear!" and prolonged whisperings. Girls in light summer frocks were making sheep's eyes on the sly at their brothers' friends, while fathers were pulling cakes of chocolate out of their pockets.
Everything was a matter of curiosity and pleasure from the garnished dish of beefsteak to the chocolate with whipped cream on top. The shining mirrors, the dextrous waiters, the music played by an orchestra, seated behind tall palms, made the place appear like fairy-land to the little village girl. "I'd like to do this every day," she confided to Patty. "So should I," agreed Patty.
The Big Business Man produced three small flasks of water and six flat, square tins containing compressed food. The Very Young Man opened one of them. "Chocolate soldiers we are," he said, and laughed. The Banker was visibly nervous and just a little frightened. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten something?" he asked, quaveringly.
"Goodness," she cried, a moment later, pointing a moist and tired chocolate in the direction of the horizon. "Am I mistaken, or is that the stalwart figure of our sergeant approaching in the distance?" "Oh, it is, it is!" cried Betty, springing to her feet and fairly dancing in her excitement and impatience. "Oh, I can't wait! Why doesn't he hurry?"
Martie would ordinarily have passed it as one unaware of its existence. But it seemed a thoroughly daring and exciting thing to come here to-night; quite another thing from going to the hotel for vanilla ice cream and chocolate even supposing the hotel had kept its dining room open for a change, after the six o'clock supper or to Bonestell's for banana specials. This this was living!
Suddenly a burst of sunlight enveloped the land, and the land responded with an instant, intolerable brilliancy, a blinding sheet of white radiance. Every limb, every individual twig and blade of grass, was covered with a sparkling, transparent mail; every mound of brown earth scintillated in a crisp surface of ice like chocolate confections glazed in clear sugar.
The pack rolled across the room, tipped over a table, and deluged an artist and his affinity with hot chocolate before they could escape from the avalanche. Chairs went over like ninepins. Stands collapsed. Men grunted and shouted advice. Girls screamed. The Sea Siren was being wrecked by a cyclone from the bad lands. Against the wall the struggling mob brought up with a crash.
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