There was silence for some time. Then the Major spoke:

"The thing that interests me is how you manage to keep up your standards
of neatness and cleanliness."

"It is not so hard," said Timmie. "I came of a good old Scotch family.
When I was a boy my mother taught me that 'cleanliness is next to
godliness,' and I made up my mind that--well, that I would at least be
clean. That was all there was left for me to be, you know."

"I think you may call yourself both," said the Major stoutly. "You have
paid well for your mistake by twelve years of exile, and as for the
money, we'll take that back with us."

Timmie smiled. "I'll be happy for the first time in twelve years when
it's gone," he said.

"I say, Major," exclaimed Bruce, "I've been thinking of those white
reindeer. Don't you suppose that solves the problem of Peary's white
reindeer?"

There was a peculiar twinkle in the Major's eye, as he asked: "How do you
make that out?"

"Well, there had been reindeer in Alaska for twenty-five years when Peary
discovered his on the eastern coast of our continent. There are many
white ones among the domestic herds, and they are constantly wandering
away, or being driven away, by packs of wolves. If they wandered this
far, might they not easily have gone on to the other side of the
continent?"