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."

"We've been in others just as tough, remember," Lil Artha declared, "and always did get to the top of the heap in the end."

"That's the way to talk," Elmer continued; "confidence is always one half of the battle. We've proved that on many a hard-fought field, baseball, football and hockey as well. If you can force yourself to believe you will win, the chances are improved three-fold."

"Well," said George, drily, as he stared very hard at his now empty platter, "I'm doing my level best to force myself to believe this pannikin is heaped high with beefsteak and fried onions and fried potatoes; now if I've got a third of a chance to get what I'm wishing for, even that much would fill a long-felt want. But say, none of you see any grub coming along on my dish do you? Well, wishing don't seem to do any good. I'm as hungry as ever, too, worse luck. Even speaking of such splendid eatings seems to make my mouth water."

"Then stop it!" cried Toby; "think all you want to, but the rest of us have feelings as well as you, and it's cruelty to animals to even mention such things as—"

"Hold on there! don't you aggravate things by mentioning that list again, or I'll proceed to roll you out of this hole into the snow drifts!" threatened Lil Artha, pretending to make a threatening gesture, while Toby threw up both hands in token of abject surrender.

"I'm dumb as an oyster, Lil Artha," he protested. "I haven't got another word to say; but if there's got to be any ejecting done let's grab the right party, and see that he gets his full dose."

George had meanwhile managed to pick up a couple of extra crackers, and having his mouth full did not make any reply. Lil Artha deftly snatched the box away from him, and closing it, calmly placed it out of reach.

"No hogging, now, George," he went on to say; "share and share alike is the rule we've got to go by from now on. If there's any hungry feeling swinging around, it's going to be no one-sided game. Others can feel empty as well as the Robbins family pet. But let's hope that before another night we'll all be sitting around a table in Uncle Caleb's shack, as warm and cozy as four bugs in a rug."

The mere thought of having to spend a second night amidst those enormous snow drifts gave the boys an unpleasant feeling. They turned and looked out from under their rude shelter. The fire itself was cheery; but beyond this lay the piles of snow, the grim trees with their white arms extended like monuments in the burying ground at Hickory Ridge, and with the air full of still rapidly falling flakes, as though the weather man up aloft had an unlimited supply of white geese to pluck on this special occasion.

For a short time no one said a word. They were all busy with thoughts, perhaps connected with their happy homes, so far removed; or it might be trying to picture the cheery scene Lil Artha had spoken of when he mentioned that cabin of Uncle Caleb, the man of science, and the small animal photographer and trapper.

CHAPTER IV