The Corner House Girls Snowbound

He, nor the little girls, scarcely appreciated the fact that the worst blizzard of the winter had broken over that territory, and that trails and paths were being utterly obliterated. The keenest scented dog, and the most experienced woodsman, could not have traced the three children to their present shelter.

Sammy came in and fixed the sled again to keep out the snow. He felt pretty serious – for him. Sammy Pinkney was not in the habit of looking for the worst to happen. Quite the contrary.

Yet he could not throw off anxiety as easily as Dot could. As long as she was not hungry, and was warm, the smallest Corner House girl felt quite cheerful.

They could see a little better in their cozy nest now, and being assured that there were no mice, thought of other wild creatures of the forest did not disturb Dot Kenway.

“Let’s play something,” said Dot. “Cum-ge-cum!”

“What do you come by?” asked Tess quickly. This was an old, old game of guessing that Aunt Sarah Maltby had taught the little folks.

“I come by the letter ‘S,’” declared Dot.

“Snow,” guessed Sammy promptly.

“No.”

“It’s got to be the ’nitial of something in this – this house,” Tess observed. “Shoes, Dottie?”

“No. ’Tisn’t shoes. And ’tis in the house – if you call this a house.”

“Shirt,” Sammy declared.

“Nopy!”

“Sled?” guessed Tess.

“No, it is not ‘sled,’” said the littlest girl.

“Stockin’s?” suggested Sammy. “I’ve got a hole in one o’ mine. Feels like my big toe was stranglin’ to death, so it does.”

“S-s-s – ”

“Oh, stop!” shrieked Dot suddenly. “What’s that at the door?”

The two little girls shrieked again and scrambled behind the trunk of the tree. Sammy was just as scared as a child could be, but he sat right where he was and watched the dim light grow at the hole over which he had pulled the sled.

Something was scratching there, dragging the sled away from over the hole in the snowdrift. Sammy did not know that even the hungriest animal in the forest was snugly housed during this storm. The creatures of the wild do not hunt when the weather is so boisterous.

It might have been a wolf, or a bear, or a lynx, or a tiger, as far as the small boy knew. Just the same, having the responsibility of Tess and Dot on his mind, he had to stay and face the unknown.

Suddenly a voice spoke from without. It said with much disgust:

“Oh, shut up your squalling. I’m not going to bite you.”

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” murmured Sammy. “What’s this?”

In a minute he was reassured, for the sled was torn away and a head and shoulders appeared down the opening through the drift.

“Hello!” exclaimed the voice again. “How did you get here? How many of you are there?”

“Two girls and a boy. And we slid here,” said Sammy, gulping down a big lump in his throat.

“Girls?” gasped the stranger, who seemed to be very little older than Sammy himself. “Girls out in this blizzard?”

“No. We’re all safe in here under the tree,” said Sammy, with some indignation. “I wouldn’t let ’em stay out in the storm.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the stranger. “And do you intend to stay here till it stops snowing?”

“Why not?” demanded Sammy.

“That won’t be until tomorrow – maybe next day,” was the cheerful response. “I guess you don’t know much about storms up here in the woods.”

“Nope. We come from Milton.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the other. “You’re some of that bunch from Red Deer Lodge, aren’t you?”

“Ye – yes, sir,” Tess interposed politely. “Do you suppose you could show us the way home?”

“Just now I couldn’t,” said the other, wriggling his way into the shelter. “This is pretty good in here. But you’d better come to my cave.”

“Oh! do you live in a cave?” asked Sammy.

“Isn’t it dark?” asked Tess.

“Are there fishes in it with blind eyes?” demanded Dot, who had heard something about the fish of the streams in the Mammoth Cave, and thought all caves were alike.

“Fish?” snorted the newcomer. “I guess not! Wish there were. We’d eat them. And we need meat.”

“Is – is your cave far?” asked Sammy, in some doubt.

“No. Just back of this tree. And we’d better get back there quick, or the door will be all snowed under. This is a big, big storm.”

“Who are you?” Tess asked. “If you don’t mind telling us. This is Sammy Pinkney; and I’m Tess Kenway; and this is my sister, Dot.”

“Huh!” said the stranger. “I – I’m Rowdy.”

“Rowdy?” repeated Tess, wonderingly.

“That’s what they call me,” said the other hastily. “Just Rowdy. And we’d better go to my cave.”

“But you don’t live out here in the woods all by yourself, do you?” asked Sammy, in much surprise.

“No. But – but my father’s gone a long way off.” The boy hesitated a moment, and then added: “Gone to Canada – trapping. Won’t be back for ever so long. So I live in the cave.”

“Oh, my!” murmured Tess.

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” exclaimed Sammy. “Ain’t you afraid to live here alone?”