LOST IN THE SNOW.
As they had done the day previous, they took turns in drawing the sled,
which, fortunately, rode over the surface of the ice easily.
Pickles was the first to try a hand. Jack and Harry went on ahead,
while Andy and Boxy came close behind the traps.
All of the boys had their collars turned high up and their caps pulled
well down. Yet the snow crept in, and more than once they could
scarcely see ahead of them.
“It’s not going to be such a bang-up, pleasant trip across, to my way
of thinking,” remarked Jack. “The snow is coming down heavier every
minute.”
“Well, we’ll make a beeline for the opposite shore,” returned Harry.
“If we keep on pushing like this, we ought to make it by a little after
noon, and that will give us plenty of time to select a spot for a
permanent camp before night comes.”
“That’s true.”
“There is one thing we must guard against, and that is airholes. This
drifting snow is apt to cover them so a fellow can’t see them until it
is too late.”
“We’ll keep our eyes peeled,” returned Jack, and he called out
instructions for those behind to do the same.
On and on they went, keeping the straightest line they could without
anything to aid their eyesight. It was still colder as they got farther
from the shore, and occasionally a blast of wind would nearly take them
from their feet.
“There is one thing we forgot to bring along, and that’s a compass,”
said Harry. “It’s a pity, too! If we had it the way need not bother us
in the least.”
“I thought of it yesterday, after we had left Rudd’s Landing. But I
hated to go back after one.”
Once or twice a flock of wild birds would circle over their heads in
the snow, and they would take a shot at them. In this manner they
brought down ten of the creatures, which, though small, would make
dainty eating. Jack and Harry placed them in their bags, and continued
to keep their eyes open for more.
About ten o’clock the wind began to blow stronger than ever. It was
little short of a hurricane, and took the boys fairly off their feet.
“By golly! dis ain’t no picnic, am it?” cried Pickles, as he went
sailing up the lake, unable to stop himself.
“Lower your sails, Pickles!” cried Boxy, who looked at the difficulty
in the light of a joke. He had to dig his heels deep into the ice to
keep himself from following the colored youth.
Jack was drawing the sled. A dozen times it swung around, and just as
he thought he had it right, the wind got under it, and over it went in
a trice, spilling off several things that had not been packed on well.
With much trouble the sled was righted. Pickles fought his way back,
and helped tie the traps fast, this time making sure that not a single
thing was left loose.
“It won’t do to lose even a plate,” said Andy. “For there are just
enough for the crowd and no more.”
“If this keeps on, we’ll have a blizzard!” gasped Harry. “It fairly
takes one’s breath away!”
“Have to keep your mouth shut or you’ll swallow a lot of snow, too!”
put in Boxy. “By the looks of things around us, one would imagine we
were out on the plains of Montana!”
“The best thing we can do is to stop talking and fight our way to the
shore,” remarked Jack, seriously. “The first thing you know, we’ll be
turned around, and we won’t know in what direction the shore is.”
Once again they moved forward. The snow beat on the right sides of
their faces and filled their right ears, and, unconsciously, they
turned a little away, and thus took a course which led them partly up
the lake instead of directly across.
By twelve o’clock they were nowhere near the woods they knew was beyond
the edge of the lake. All around them were ice and snow. The wind had
let up a bit, but the snow was whirling down thicker than ever.
“I’m getting played out,” said Andy.
“And I’m hungry,” added Boxy.
“And I’m a bit of both,” put in Harry. “Let us rest a few minutes and
have a bite to eat.”
Pickles was more than willing, and at once went to work to get out
crackers and cheese. Jack looked on with a doubtful face.
“We’ll have a bite, but don’t waste time resting,” he said. “We must go
on, or night will overtake us while we are still on the lake.”
“Why, it’s only twelve o’clock!” cried Andy.
“That’s so, but the shore is still a good way off, and if we get
lost----”
“Oh, we won’t get lost,” put in Boxy. “We all know just where the shore
is.”
“And where is it?” questioned Jack, still more seriously.
“Right over there,” and Boxy pointed with his arm.
“Why, no, it’s over in that direction,” cried Andy, pointing nearly at
right angles with Boxy.
“You are both wrong,” put in Harry. “It’s over here,” and his arm went
up in still a third direction.
“Boxy am right,” said Pickles.
“I am inclined to think Harry is right,” remarked Jack.
“But didn’t we come that way?” insisted Boxy, in surprise.
“Yes, we came from that way, but we have been turning our backs to the
wind, and going up the lake instead of across.”
“Maybe the wind has shifted.”
“I doubt it,” said Harry.
“I don’t believe the wind has shifted much,” said Andy. “But I was sure
the shore lay off in that direction. Jack is right, we had better be
moving off without delay. We don’t want to get lost in this snowstorm
out here on the lake.”
They all agreed to this, but in what direction should they turn?
It was finally decided to try the course Harry and Jack advocated, as
they were looked on as natural leaders of the party.
The remainder of the crackers and cheese brought out by Pickles was
quickly eaten, and they set off.
It was growing cooler again, and the wind blew the snow in blinding
masses into their faces. Onward they skated, until the drifts became
almost impassable.
“I can’t skate through this!” cried Andy, at last.
“Let us take our skates off and walk,” suggested Boxy.
But Harry and Jack quickly vetoed this. It was just as easy to plow
through the snow on skates, and it was easier to skate over the clear
patches of ice than walk.
So they kept on their skates, and thereafter Jack helped his younger
brother whenever Andy seemed in danger of pegging out.
“My ears are all but frozen,” said Boxy, at last. “My right one has no
feeling in it any longer.”
“Rub snow on it,” suggested Harry. “And rub it on hard, too,” and he
showed his companion how to do it.
“Dis am de werry worst trip I eber tuk,” declared Pickles, solemnly.
“An’ I won’t take anudder in a long, long while.”
“If we could only see away ahead,” said Jack; “but the snow hides
everything fifty feet off.”
“And the storm is growing wilder every second,” added Andy.
“This will knock out hunting for a day or two, even if we strike a
camp,” declared Boxy, breathing heavily, to keep up with the others.
“Oh, it will be all right if it stops snowing and the sun comes out,”
returned Jack, as cheerfully as he could.
“By golly! it looks like it would snow fo’ a week!” cried Pickles.
“Jess look how thick it am comin’ down now! Jess like somebody was
a-shakin’ out a fedder-bed ober our heads!”
Pickles was right. The snow was now coming down so thickly that it
seemed to fill every inch of the air. Their vision in every direction
was cut off to but a few feet in front of them.
“Stick close together,” urged Harry. “If we become separated we’ll
never find each other again.”
His timely advice was heeded and they bunched up so closely that they
frequently took hold of each other’s arms.
It was hard work to drag the sled now, and two had to take hold instead
of only one.
Finally they came to a long, solid drift of snow, all of six feet
high, and two or three yards wide. Jack and Harry mounted to the top,
and, despite the swirling snow and cutting wind, essayed to pierce the
gathering darkness around them.
It was useless. Nothing but snow and ice was to be seen. Night was
coming on, and they were lost in the pelting storm!