"Lucky I fell into this hole, just the same," remarked Heavy. "It just about saved our lives."
"But I guess we would have been a whole lot better off if we hadn't moved from the first big tree Ruth got us to creep under," Helen said, thoughtfully. "We couldn't have been more than two miles from Snow Camp then. Now we don't know where we are."
"Never mind that, Helen," advised Madge. "Help get in the wood. Now, we want a big, rousing fire. We'll just heat that old rock up so that it will stay warm all night. It will be like sleeping as the Russian peasants do—on top of their stoves."
They had piled the brush on the coals, after scraping the coals back upon the ledge, and the firelight was dancing far up the rock, and shining out into the steadily drifting snow, when suddenly Helen seized her chum's hand and cried:
"Listen! what's that?"
The girls grew silent instantly—and showing no little fear. From somewhere out in the storm a cry came to their ears.
"There it is again," gasped Helen. "I heard it twice before."
"I hear it," repeated Madge. "Wait."
Again the distant sound came forlornly to their ears. That time they all distinguished it. And they knew that their first hope was quenched. It was no sound of a rescuing party searching for them in the storm, for the word—repeated several times, and unmistakable— they all identified.
"Help!"