"I don't know that anything has happened," said Tom, swallowing a big lump in his throat, and trying to speak calmly. "The girls have not been with us. They went into the woods somewhere to get stuff for their pillows. And it is snowing harder than I ever knew it to snow before."
"Oh, Tom!" gasped the governess.
"Come! we'll go out and see about this at once," cried his father, and began to get into his out-of-door clothing, including a pair of great boots.
"Is it snowing very hard, Tom?" queried the lady, anxiously. "What makes you look so?"
For Tom was scared—and he showed it. He turned short around without answering Mrs. Murchiston again, and led the way to the kitchen. The other boys had shaken off the snow and were hovering over the range for warmth.
"Found 'em all right; didn't you?" demanded Bob Steele.
"No. They haven't come in," said Tom, shortly, and immediately Bob began pulling on his coat again.
"Oh, pshaw!" said Isadore. "They'll be all right."
"Where are Jerry and the others?" Mr. Cameron asked the maids.
"Sure, sir," said Mary, who was peering wonderingly out of the window at the thick cloud of snow sweeping across the pane, "sure, sir, Jerry and the min went down in the swamp to draw up some back-logs. And it's my opinion they'd better be in out of this storm."