A HEAVY STORM.
On Sunday of the week the boys remained about the camp, doing very
little of anything. Early in the morning Pickles took Boxy with him and
showed him how to spear fish through a hole in the ice. The fish made
an excellent dinner.
Toward evening it began to cloud and blow up from the northwest. Half
an hour later it was snowing furiously.
“This is going to be a storm, and no mistake,” said Jack, as he went
out toward the lake shore to take a look around. “It is a good thing we
have plenty of meat and other stuff on hand.”
“Do you think we will be snowed in?” asked Boxy.
“I do, and it may last for several days. The best thing we can do is to
gather together all the firewood we can and stack it up just outside of
the hut. Then when the snow gets too deep we can build a snow-hut and
have the campfire inside.”
Jack’s suggestion was followed out, and by bedtime they had a pile of
wood stacked against the hut that was nearly as high as the hut itself.
The oven was rebuilt closer than ever to the doorway, and a projecting
top was built over the latter, so that the snow might not drift too
rapidly into the interior of the hut.
Nothing had been seen or heard of Pete Sully and his companions,
and all of the boys were inclined to believe that the bully and his
followers had been forced to return to Rudskill.
Despite the fact that the snow was coming down thickly, the wind
increased in violence until, as Pickles put it, “dar was about de
nearest approach to a blizzard wot could well strike dat paht ob de
country.”
The whistling of the wind through the trees was music to the boys’
ears, however, and after building up the fire in the best manner they
could devise, they rolled themselves in their blankets, and gave
themselves up to their dreams.
It was after eight o’clock when Harry awoke and aroused the others. The
sled, which had been placed upright in the doorway, was taken down, and
in tumbled a great mass of snow.
“My gracious, boys, just look at this!” cried Harry. “The snow has
drifted up against the hut until it is over our heads!”
What he said was strictly true. Outside of the doorway all was a mass
of white. Even the campfire had been completely snowed under.
“We are in for it now, and no mistake,” murmured Boxy. “We won’t be
able to get out for a month!”
“Nonsense!” cried Jack, cheerily. “Come, boys, we must shovel the snow
away and get the fire started up for breakfast.”
“And how are we going to shovel snow without shovels?” queried Andy,
dubiously.
For a moment a look of comical dismay went around the little group.
Then Harry partly solved the problem.
“Let’s take the tin plates for a starter,” he said. “After breakfast
we’ll try to cut out some wooden shovels with the ax and our
pocket-knives.”
Fortunately, the tin plates made very respectable shovels, although
using them nearly broke their backs. However, in the course of half an
hour a space about six feet square in front of the hut was cleared, the
snow being banked up all around, with the idea of later on building a
snowhouse.
“The heat from the fire will make the snow pack better,” said Harry.
“Now for breakfast. I am as hungry as a bear!”
“I’m as hungry as two bears, and I can’t bear my hunger any longer,”
said Boxy.
“That’s a bare kind of a joke,” grinned Andy.
There was a general laugh. Pickles lit the fire, which roared and
leaped in the wind. The smell of broiling venison soon put every one in
good humor.
It had ceased snowing, but the sky was still dark and threatening.
“We’ll have more by night, mark my words,” said Jack. “It has really
just started.”
After breakfast the boys hunted up some long sticks, and to one end of
each they either nailed a flat board whittled from a split-up log or
bound a mass of stout twigs.
“Now we have both shovels and brooms,” cried Jack. “Whoop, now, it’s
workin’ on de corporation, Oi am, do ye moind!” he went on, strutting
around with one of the brooms on his shoulder.
“Well, I hope you work a bit faster than street men usually do,”
returned Harry. “If you don’t, we won’t have much done by nightfall.”
“Oi’ll outdo yez all, so Oi will,” exclaimed Jack, and he sailed in
with a vigor that left no doubt that he meant what he said.
The first work was to enlarge the circle outside of the doorway. This
accomplished, Harry, Jack and Andy started to build the snowhouse,
while Boxy and Pickles climbed up to get the snow from the roof of the
hut, thus relieving them of any anxiety concerning the top of their
domicile caving in.
It was no easy matter to build a snowhouse about the fire, but the boys
worked with a will, and by three o’clock in the afternoon the task was
finished.
The walls of the new structure rose nearly ten feet, and were three
feet thick. The entrance to it was from the hut, and a narrow
passageway which led toward the creek. The top was roofed over, except
in the center, which was left open to let the smoke from the fire
escape.
“I don’t know if that is going to last or not,” said Harry. “But we can
try it anyway.”
“It will last if it remains cold,” returned Jack. “But if it gets
milder, and the fire blazes up too hotly we’ll have to ‘stand from
under,’ as the saying is.”
“I don’t believe it is going to get any milder just yet. If anything,
the thermometer is going down steadily.”
“That is because it is going toward evening. But we’ll know more about
it in the morning. One thing is certain: hunting is knocked endways for
a day or two.”
After the work outside was finished, they had another meal, a dinner
and supper combined, and then withdrew into the hut, where Pickles
tried to liven up matters by playing his banjo and mouth harmonica and
singing half-a-dozen songs. The boys joined in the chorus of the songs,
and soon they were as gay as if the elements were perfect for the
furtherance of their outing.
“If we have to stay in to-morrow, I am going to try my hand at making
some traps,” said Andy. “I want to trap something before we go back.”
“So do I!” cried Boxy. “Pickles, you must put us in the way of this.”
“I will, suah!” responded the colored youth. “My dad learned me all
about traps when I was knee-high to a mosquito.”
“I don’t know what you can trap here,” said Jack. “But it will do no
harm to try your luck.”
Before they went to bed they looked out, and found it snowing again,
harder than ever. The wind was rising, too, causing the branches of the
trees to creak ominously.
“Supposing some of those branches should break off and come down on
the top of the hut?” asked Boxy. “Wouldn’t we catch it?”
“It would have to be a pretty big branch to do much damage,” replied
Harry. “Jack and I saw to it that the poles were put up quite firmly.”
“We don’t want to get smashed to bits while we are asleep.”
“I doubt if the wind is yet high enough to break down very much. You
must remember these trees are very tough, and, standing together, one
protects another.”
“But if the wind should blow stronger----” insisted Boxy.
“It will wake us up, and we can be on our guard,” replied Harry, and
there the subject was dropped.
On account of the extreme cold, Pickles was very particular to keep a
good fire, and for that purpose placed several small logs on the brush.
“Yo’ see we don’t want for to wake up in de moahnin’ all froze to
deth!” he explained.
“Or so stiff that we’ll have to set each other up against the fire to
thaw out,” laughed Boxy. “My! but it’s cold, eh?”
“With so much snow it ought to get warmer,” grumbled Andy.
“It will be warmer by to-morrow, I think,” said Jack. “We can thank our
stars that we have such a comfortable shelter.”
With a last look at the fire, Pickles retired to his corner of the hut.
Soon the colored youth was snoring peacefully, and the sound made all
of the others sleepy. One by one they lay down and rolled themselves
in their blankets, Jack being the last to retire.
How long he slept he never knew. He awakened with a sneeze and a cough,
which did not come from the cold. He sat up and rubbed his eyes in a
dazed way. What was the matter?
Suddenly a puff of smoke nearly strangled him. The smoke was followed
from the outside by a streak of flame! Then he realized what was the
matter. The campfire had set fire to the hut!