"So he did!" cried Helen. "I do believe Ruth never forgets anything she is told. And we may be glad of those matches."
"Goodness me!" whined Lluella. "Don't talk so dreadfully."
"How do you mean?" queried Helen.
"As though we'd have to stay here under this old tree so long! It's got to stop snowing soon. Or else the men will come after us."
"Why, we all believe that we shall soon get home," said Madge cheerfully. "But the boys, or the men, either, couldn't find us in this storm. We will have to be patient."
Patience was hard indeed to cultivate in their present situation. The minutes dragged by with funereal slowness. Lluella began to sob, and the most cheerful of the party could not keep up her spirits indefinitely.
"Oh, but we'll be all right, I am sure!" quoth Madge. "Don't get down-hearted, girls."
Helen broke down next and declared that she could not remain idle any longer. "We must move out of this," she said. "We must find our way back. Why, they might come this way hunting for us and never find us—go right by the tree. We ought to get outside and shout, at least."
"Don't let's leave this warm shelter," begged Ruth. "It will be really serious if we move farther from the regular camp instead of toward it."
"But we cannot hear any rescue party shouting for us, nor can they hear us under this drift," insisted Helen.