The Corner House Girls Snowbound

About the time Neale O’Neil was asking his very pertinent question about the whereabouts of Sammy and Tess and Dot, that trio had stopped, breathless and not a little frightened, in a big drift at what seemed the bottom of a deep hole.

The snow swirled about them so, and they seemed to have come so far down from the place where they had pushed off on the sled, that they believed it was a deep hole; and there seemed no possibility of getting out of it.

“I – I guess,” quavered Dot, “that we’ll just have to lie right down here and let the snow cover us all – all up.”

“I do wish, child, when you get into trouble that you wouldn’t give up all hope, right first off!” exclaimed Tess, rather exasperated at her sister. “Of course we are not going to give up and lie down in this snow.”

“Of course not!” echoed Sammy Pinkney.

Nevertheless, Sammy experienced a chill up and down his spine, and the short hairs at the back of his neck stiffened. It was borne upon his mind all of a sudden that they were lost – utterly lost! He could not understand how they had got off of the straight path to Red Deer Lodge; but he was very sure that they had done so and, as far as he knew, they were miles and miles away from that shelter and from their friends.

Yet there seemed nothing to do but keep on through the snow – as long as they could press forward. Tess was quite as plucky as he made believe to be. And they could haul Dot a little way at a time on the sled.

“But we’re going on, Sammy, without getting anywhere,” was Tess’ very wise observation. “I think we ought to scrouge down under something until the snow stops.”

“Just like the Babes in the Woods,” wailed Dot, who knew all the nursery stories.

“Do be still!” cried her sister, quite tartly. “Sammy and I are going to find you a nice place to stop, Dot.”

“Well, I hope it’s a place with a fire in it, ’cause I’m cold,” complained the smallest Corner House girl.

They all wished for a fire and shelter, but the older ones feared with reason that both comforts would not be immediately found. Sammy had not ventured forth this time prepared for all emergencies, as he had the time that Dot and he ran away to sail piratically the canal. He had no means of making a fire, even if he could find fuel.

Sammy was not without fertility of ideas, however; and these to a practical end. It must never be said of him, when the lost party got back to Red Deer Lodge, that he had not done his duty toward his companions.

He saw that the lower branches of some of the big spruce trees swept the snow – indeed, their ends were drifted over in places. Under those trees were shelters that would break both the wind and the snow. He said this to Tess, and she agreed.

“But we must keep a hole open to look out of,” she said. “Otherwise we won’t see the folks when they come hunting for us.”

“Je-ru-sa-lem! If they come along this road while it’s snowing like this lookin’ for us, we’d never see ’em,” muttered the boy.

But he kept this opinion to himself. Vigorous action claimed Sammy Pinkney almost immediately. While Dot “sniffled,” as he called it, on the half-buried sled, Sammy started to dig under the boughs of a tree near at hand.

The wind seemed to be less boisterous here, but the snow was drifting rapidly. Back of the tree the steep hillside rose abruptly, somewhat sheltering the spot.

Sammy burrowed through the drift like a dog seeking a rabbit. He found a way between two branches of the spruce, over which the snow had packed hard at a previous fall. He had to break away fronds of the tough branches to open a hole into the dark interior.

“Come on!” he shouted, half smothered by the snow he was pawing out. “Here’s a hole.”

“Oh, Sammy! suppose there should be something in there?” gasped Tess, her lips close to his ear.

At this suggestion Master Sammy drew back with some precipitation.

“Aw, Tess! what d’you want to say such things to a feller for?” he growled. “If there is anything in there we’ll find it out soon enough.”

Dot’s sharp ears had heard something of this. She shrieked:

“Oh! Is it mice? I am afraid of mice, and I won’t go in there till you drive them all out, Sammy.”

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” murmured Sammy, with vast disgust. “Don’t girls beat everything?”

“I don’t care! I don’t like mice,” reiterated the smallest Corner House girl.

“Huh!” declared Sammy, wickedly, “maybe there’ll be wolves under there.”

“Wolfs? Well, I haven’t my Alice-doll here, so I don’t care about wolfs. But mice I am afraid of!”

At that Sammy took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and dived out of sight. He found that there was quite a sharp incline over hard snow to the bottom of the hole. All around the trunk of the tree, and next to it, was bare, hard ground. It made a roomy shelter, and it was just as warm as any house could be without a fire.

There was a quantity of dry and dead branches under here to scratch him and tear at his clothing. Sammy broke these off as he crawled around the tree, making the way less difficult for the little girls when they should enter.

A little light entered by the hole down which he had plunged. It made the interior of the strange shelter of a murky brownness, not at all helpful in “seeing things.”

Sammy was quite sure there was no wolf housed in here; but about the mice or other small rodents he was not so sure.

However, he called to the little girls cheerfully to come down, and Dot immediately scrambled in, feet first. Tess followed her sister with less precipitation. Like Sammy, she felt the burden of their situation much more than did Dot. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” was Dot’s opinion.

Sammy crawled out again and rescued the sled which was already buried in the snow. He dragged it to the opening and left it right over the hole so as to keep the snow from drifting in upon them.

“But it makes it so dark, Sammy!” said Tess, a little sharply.

“Wait a while. You can see better pretty soon. Your eyes get used to the dark – just like you went down cellar at night for a hod of coal.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t!” declared Dot. “But I’m not afraid of the dark. It’s nothing you can feel.”

So they were very cozy and fairly warm under the tree. Soon the snow had heaped so thickly over the mouth of their shelter that they could not even hear the wind.

They had eaten a good lunch. Sammy had some nuts in his pockets. It was now about four o’clock. They were not likely to suffer for anything needful for some time. And, of course, neither of the three thought that their stay under the spruce tree would be for long.

“If the snow doesn’t stop pretty soon, and so we can get out and find the way home, Neale O’Neil and Aggie will come for us,” Dot said, with considerable cheerfulness for her. “I’m all warm now, and I don’t care.”

Sammy did not feel altogether as sure that they would escape from the difficulty so easily; but he did not openly express his belief. He was, like the little girls, glad to have found shelter. With provisions and a fire, he said, they could stay here like Crusoes.

“You know, Robinson Crusoe lived in a cave, and in a hut. And he was all alone till he got some goats and a Man Friday.”

“We might have brought Billy Bumps along,” said Dot thoughtfully.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to live with an old goat,” Tess observed, with scorn.

They had no means of measuring the passage of time, and of course it seemed that “hours and hours” must have passed before Sammy tried to look out through the opening the first time.

And this was no easy work. The snow had gathered so quickly and packed down so hard upon the sled that the boy could scarcely raise it. Finally, by backing under the sled and rising up with it on his shoulders, the sturdy little fellow broke through the drift.

“I got it!” he shouted back to Tess and Dot. “But, oh, Je-ru-sa-lem! ain’t it snowin’ though? Bet it never snowed so hard before. I guess we’ll have to stay here till they dig us out.”

“Oh, Sammy! All night?” gasped Dot.

“Well, I don’t know about that. But until this old snow stops, anyway.”