Storm-Bound: or, A Vacation Among the Snow Drifts

In another minute or two all of them were busily engaged. It was such a pleasant duty, partaking of this forest meal, and amidst such romantic surroundings, that for the time being they forgot all the dismal prospects ahead of them, and were quite merry. Toby joked, and Lil Artha laughed aloud, while Elmer joined them, and even George, placated by having his gnawing pains satisfied, for the time being looked contented with the world. He would not have made any objection had he been offered a second edition of that game supper; for when his bird had been reduced to a mere lot of well-picked bones his taste for broiled partridge seemed as keen as ever.

Possessed of hearty boyish appetites it can readily be understood that they had made a pretty good hole in their limited supplies by the time all of them admitted that they were satisfied. Toby professed to be greatly concerned because of this growing scarcity of rations, and as for George, his gloom had returned, since he was already talking of the time, near at hand most likely, when the cupboard would be as bare as it was when Old Mother Hubbard went to get her dog a bone.

"Gee! whiz! look at it coming down, would you!" burst out Lil Artha, as having finished attending to that clamorous appetite, he thought it worth while to take an observation, in order to learn what the weather might be.

"Never saw it snow harder," admitted Toby.

"Be over our heads by morning, see if 'tain't," George prophesied.

"Well, p'raps you may have a chance to use those snow-shoes sooner'n you thought you would, Toby," ventured Lil Artha, as they all crouched there, staring out at the dark forest, and watching the myriads of big flakes steadily falling, as though a storm of the greatest magnitude had come down from the far northwest, where the weather man keeps this brand of thing in tap for scouts who are incautious enough to be caught napping, away off in a strange woods, and with only rations for one day in their haversacks.

CHAPTER III

THE LONG NIGHT

"Let me tell you this is going to be the queerest old camp any of us ever found ourselves stuck in," Toby ventured to remark, some time later.

"I should say it was," grumbled George, as he rubbed his ears, and then held both hands out toward the fire to warm them again.

"I know one thing we ought to do right away," said Elmer, "and that's get out those warm skating tuques; they'll keep the air off our heads, and can be drawn down to protect our ears."

"That's a good idea, Elmer," Lil Artha told him, "because I don't want to have one of my wigwags frozen off. You see, I'm so much taller than the rest of you it takes harder work for my poor heart to pump warm blood all the way up; and so I'm likely to suffer from cold extremities. Seems like that off ear is frosted right now."

"If it is," cried George, hurriedly, as though he thought Lil Artha meant all he said, "take my advice, and rub it hard with a lot of snow. That'll take the frost out, and start circulation again. Brr! but this is going to be a tough night, when you think of it."

"I don't know," Elmer told him; "seems to me we've got a whole lot to be thankful for, with this fine fire, and a protection against the storm. Perhaps we may run up against something harder than this before we're done."

"But we haven't got a tent, and our grub is pretty skimpy, say what you will," the grumbler went on to protest.

"Yes, that's all very true," continued Elmer, "but how wise we were to fetch our blankets along, for fear that Toby's uncle mightn't have enough in stock to go around. They felt pretty heavy when we carried them, soldier fashion, around one shoulder, and tied them under the other arm; but here's where they come in dandy."

"Well, believe me, it was the smartest trick we ever did," Lil Artha hastened to comment, "and if we'd only glimpsed this sort of box ahead, so as to lay in three times as much grub, it'd be all right."

"It is all right as it stands," the leader went on to say, "and we'll show how scouts can take things as they come, without making mouths. So let's see how we're going to fix ourselves for the night."

"Guess none of us care much to sit up late, and gabble over the fire," suggested Toby; "though it seems a fellow can't get enough of that heat in him."

"I want to shut out the whole business," affirmed George, in sheer disgust, "and I hope that after my eyes close I won't know a blooming thing till morning."

George was a good sleeper as a rule, and his troubles seldom kept him from getting a fair share of rest. Nor was he like his cousin, Philander Smith, also a member of the Wolf Patrol, and who had been known to walk in his sleep; George, once he snuggled down, with his blanket tucked all around him, was like a regular Indian mummy. The others, knowing this from past experiences, paid little attention to his complaints concerning a disturbed night, because they knew it never had any real basis of fact.

For some little time the four boys busied themselves getting "fixed." George was as hard to suit as any old maid. He found something wrong with every corner of the depression that he tried; here it was a root that jabbed him in the ribs; in another place the point of a big stone made it impossible for him to curl up, and maintain a comfortable attitude.

After he had made the complete round, the others allowing him his choice, he was finally compelled to accept the first position he had tested.

"Now let's hope we've heard the last kick from you, George," Lil Artha told him, severely, after submitting to all this fussing; "I don't see what you've got to complain about after all. Your bones are well covered with a pad, while mine stick out like the joints of a scarecrow. And say, don't you think I'm going to have a tough time of it stowing these long legs of mine away? Chances are they'll push out in the night, and when I wake up again I'll find the lower part of poor Lil Artha as stiff as a board. Subside, George! Give the rest of us a chance to get settled down. If we all took as long as you did it'd be near morning before we fixed things."

Finally, however, they seemed to have made the best of a bad bargain. Taking Elmer's advice they all kept as close together as possible. In this way perhaps they might not secure a great abundance of decent sleep, but the fact of their being in touch with each other would add to their comfort in the way of warmth.

Elmer, with characteristic generosity, had chosen last, and hence he lay nearer the outside of the shelter than any of his mates. But having known what it was to be exposed to the rigors of a cold storm, since he had braved a Canadian winter while up on that ranch, the young scout master also knew how to make use of his blanket as though it were a sleeping bag.

The hours dragged slowly along.

Afterwards they would always look back, and shudder as they remembered how terribly long that night did seem. And yet none of them really suffered, save that it was impossible to sleep, only in snatches.

This was on account of several things. In the first place, they were jammed together in a way to which they were wholly unaccustomed; and when one stirred on becoming cramped it aroused all the others in turn. Then their strange surroundings had more or less influence upon them. Not that there was any furious noise, such as would have accompanied a summer gale; but the weird moaning of the wintry wind through the leafless branches of the oaks, and the bending tops of the pines, made a music that kept them thinking they heard human voices calling for help.

Another reason why Elmer had chosen the outside place when lying down was his desire to keep watch upon the fire.

It was his intention to keep this going as long as possible, though a fellow built on the order of George would have complained bitterly had he been compelled to crawl out of his snug nest several times in order to face that pitiless storm, and pile more fuel on the smouldering logs.

Elmer was one of those boys who, knowing his duty, always went about it without any brag or bluster, and could be depended on to sacrifice his own comfort in order that his chums might benefit. In other words Elmer was what you might call an ideal scout. He seldom had any trouble about practicing those twelve cardinal principles that govern the working day of a scout – to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent. They came naturally to him.

Three times did he perform this fire-building act. The last occasion must have been well on toward the hour of three in the morning, as he judged from certain conditions, though he could not bother looking at his little silver watch.

At that time the storm was keeping it up just as wildly as ever, and there was much more than a foot of snow on the ground, where it had not drifted; with any quantity still to come down.

After that Elmer must have secured better sleep, for he did not wake up again until a movement accompanied by a voice aroused him.

"Great Scott! let me tell you the bottom's dropped out of the mercury tube this time, boys!" the voice went on to bellow, and he recognized the tones as belonging to George, who had not been heard from ever since he first curled up in the folds of his warm blanket.

He was raising his head now, and observing his breath as it congealed in the frosty air. Elmer knew that the time to sleep had passed, because it was daylight.

"How about that snow, has it stopped?" asked another voice, as Toby sat up, and began to stretch his arms upon which he may have been lying so that they felt more or less numb.

"Still coming down as hard as ever," Elmer told him, shaking quite a lot of the feathery stuff out of the folds of his blanket; and then struggling to his feet.

There was no lounging around that morning. It was so cold that every fellow was glad to get into action immediately he came out of his blanket. George begged to be allowed to lie there until the fire got good and warm. He urged every plea he could think of, saying they would only get in each others' way by crowding; and that too many cooks always spoiled the broth, anyway; but Toby and Lil Artha declared they had no use for a shirker; and if he did nothing else he could stand up and serve as a windbreak for the "willing workers."

The fire had gone completely out, and several inches of snow covered the spot; but wise, long-headed Elmer had provided against such a contingency on the evening before, for he had a handful of fine wood, light and dry, handy, with which to make a fresh start.

After things got to moving it was not so bad. The scouts soon felt even a little cheerful over the situation, because a crackling fire is one of the greatest inducements to raising one's spirits ever discovered. When shivering with the cold, and hungry as well, the world looks pretty blue to any one; but let that same person come in close contact with a fire that warms him up, and things quickly take on quite a different hue.

Then there was that fragrant odor of coffee and bacon cooking on the fire that tickled the noses of the boys; nothing could beat that for good cheer – "if only they had more of the same," as George constantly reminded them, even when enjoying his share.

"Strikes me this is a mighty slim breakfast," he remarked, as he found that he had already caused more than half that was on his pannikin to vanish, and yet his appetite seemed as sharp as ever.

"You never spoke truer words, George," said Toby, soberly, "but when you stop to think what a small amount of stuff we've got along with us, and the bad fix we're in, you can understand that we've got to cut the allowance down."

"Yes," added Lil Artha, "of course you've heard of shipwrecked mariners being in a boat, and drifting around on the big ocean for days and days. Well, they always have to go on half rations, both with food and fresh drinking water. Anyhow we won't have to bother our poor heads about that last, because all we have to do is to melt snow and get what we want."

"Hang it, I wish we could melt all the old white stuff; I hate it!" George continued, being a poor loser.

"And yet I've heard you fairly raving over the beautiful snow," chuckled Lil Artha, "but then that was when you were out sleigh riding with Polly Brett. Makes considerable difference what your condition is, how you look at things. For my part I don't hanker after snow one bit right now. Seen all I want to of it to last me all winter; but then what's the use bothering your head about things that can't be changed. It's a condition, not a theory, that confronts us, and what we want to do is to set our minds to work wrestling with the question of how we're going to crawl out of this difficulty and find Uncle Caleb's shack."

"Whew! mebbe I don't wish we were there now, snug under his roof, and telling him all about our adventure, as well as how Elmer here found a way to pull his chums out of a hole, like he always does," and Toby, while saying this, gave the scout master a sly look, as though begging him to tell them some hopeful news that would buoy their sinking spirits up.

"I wish I had as much confidence in myself as you seem to feel in me, Toby," was what Elmer told him, "but I couldn't say the storm is nearly over, because it's coming down as hard as ever, and goodness knows when it means to let up. But we're a lively bunch, you know, and we're bound to find some way of getting out of this scrape."