A GREAT DISASTER.
The stunning crash and the succeeding darkness suggested an earthquake
to the frightened boys. They dropped down on the boughs and lay there
without moving for nearly a minute.
"Any one hurt?" asked Jerry, in a husky tone.
"I'm not," whispered Brick.
"Neither am I," added Hamp. "But we may be killed any minute. I wonder
what that was."
"I'll bet I know," exclaimed Jerry. "One of those big pine trees has
fallen right across the ravine. Luckily it hit the rock instead of the
cabin, and the thick branches are what makes it dark in here."
To prove his assertion, Jerry removed the plug from the hole over the
door. Sure enough, a couple of bushy, green limbs were seen protruding
from the cabin roof down into the snow.
"It's only the limbs that do that," declared Jerry. "The trunk of the
tree is on the rock. If it had fallen a little to this side we would
have been crushed like eggshells."
"The cabin is just as firm as ever," said Hamp, as he pressed his weight
against one side.
"It's firmer," asserted Brick. "It don't wobble one bit now, and it did
before."
"That's because the outspreading branches of the tree are holding it
like a vise," said Jerry. "I'll tell you what, fellows, this accident is
the best thing that could have happened to us. The cabin is as solid as
though it was built on stone, and the roof can't break down now, no
matter how deep the snow becomes."
This was undoubtedly true, and the boys were vastly relieved to hear it.
"If we only had the matches and provisions here," said Brick. "Then we
would be fixed."
"Yes, we could stand a long siege," assented Jerry. "But we've got to be
up and doing. First, we'll have a bite to eat, and then Hamp can tackle
the tunnel."
The storm still raged with unabated fury, and the stinging cold air
penetrated to the cabin. The boys plugged up the hole, and then sat down
to the scanty repast, which was soon over.
"Now for the tunnel," said Hamp.
He removed the sled and gingerly unbuttoned the flap of canvas from the
doorway.
The others helped him, and as fast as they removed the snow, they poked
it out through the hole above. Finally the excavation was three feet
deep, and high enough to admit Hamp on his hands and knees.
"You'll have to stop removing the snow now," said Jerry. "I can't poke
any more out, for the drift is up over the hole in the wall."
"All right," replied Hamp, cheerfully, as he crawled into the tunnel.
"The snow is so light that I can pack it under me and against the sides.
It's nice and warm in here, fellows, but it's dark as pitch. I wish
there was a little light."
"You'll have to wish," replied Jerry. "You can strike matches on the way
back from the storehouse."
Hamp laughed, and his voice had a hollow, muffled ring.
"Better let me come in and help you," cried Brick.
"No; stay there," responded Hamp. "If two fellows were working, we would
surely have a cave-in. I'm getting along all right."
By this time he was five feet from the cabin. On hands and knees he went
slowly ahead through the intense darkness. He wore stout buckskin
gloves, and carried a slab of bark, with which he patted down the snow
in front of him and slapped it against the sides of the tunnel. He could
hear, as though from a great distance, the ceaseless roar of the
tempest. All was quiet in the cabin, and he dared not call out to his
companions, for fear his voice would bring an avalanche of snow into the
tunnel.
Yet the lad was in a hazardous situation, and to himself he did not
disguise the fact. At any moment might come disaster in the shape of a
cave-in or a falling tree. Then, in the darkness, he would have little
chance of escape.
He worked forward slowly and bravely. He had a definite plan in mind.
Directly out from the cabin door was the fireplace, and two or three
feet to the right of this lay a flat stone, on which the boys had
frequently sat while cooking the meals. Straight down the ravine from
the stone was the storehouse. To reach the latter seemed simple enough,
but it was not so easy after all.
Now and then he would throw himself flat, and stretch out his arms and
legs to their fullest extent to make sure that the tunnel had no crooks.
At last something occurred that made his heart leap for joy. The slab of
bark struck a hard obstacle. Hamp tore eagerly at the snow with both
hands. Yes, he had found the fireplace. One by one he lifted the charred
embers of wood. Here was the half-consumed log that had ceased to burn
when the storm opened. So far the tunnel was just what he had aimed to
make it.
In a short time Hamp cleared the space round about him, and flattened
the snow down solidly. He was tempted to push straight ahead for the
storehouse, but a prudent second thought caused him to abandon the rash
design. He turned to the right, and went on with the excavation. Hope
made the time pass quickly, and he was surprised when he struck the flat
stone. He tunneled clear over it with extreme caution. Then he veered
sharply to the left and followed the triangular point of the stone,
which he knew pointed straight for the storehouse.
Deeper and deeper grew the tunnel, and soon his feet were quite beyond
the stone. He could barely kick it with his heels when he threw himself
flat. The goal was now within six or eight feet.
Then came a sudden rumble and whirr, and Hamp felt a weight drop upon
the rear part of his body. He knew what had happened, and threw himself
convulsively forward. He cleared the fallen snow and then wheeled
quickly around. The tunnel had disappeared. The roof had fallen in.
Hamp had no way of telling how far back the blockade extended.
"I'll have to turn back and clear the path," he reflected. "The cave-in
surely can't reach farther than the stone. This time I'll make the roof
stronger. I can be thankful it didn't drop all over me."
The cleared space around him permitted him to turn slowly on his hands
and knees. He described a complete revolution, gently patting the roof
overhead to make sure that it was solid.
It was a most stupid thing to do, and when the realization of his folly
flashed upon his mind, Hamp felt that he would give much to be able to
kick himself. In truth, he had blundered into a most perplexing
situation. He had utterly lost his bearings.
For a moment the lad was simply stupid with horror. He had not the least
idea in which direction lay the cabin or the storehouse, the upper or
the lower side of the ravine.
He was buried under a mighty snowdrift, that might collapse and stifle
him at any instant.