It did that night. All the next day, the following night, and part of the next day the wind blew with unabated violence, and the snow was heaped in big drifts.
Fortunately the camp was in a sheltered position, and the drifts were not high immediately around it, but when the boys ventured out they found it hard traveling, for the snow was deep. All around, the woods were covered with a mantle of white, which had sifted down through the trees, while the firs, spruces, hemlocks and pines, which had heavy foliage that caught the white crystals, were mounds of white.
“It’s a good thing we had plenty to eat,” observed Bart, as he and his chums looked around the camp, “for we never could have gotten it during the storm.”
“That’s right,” agreed Fenn, “but, as it is, we’ll have to get something soon, unless we want to live on canned stuff. The fresh meat is nearly gone.” For, while practically prisoners in their tents during the storm, they had eaten considerable, and the cupboard was somewhat depleted.
“Oh, we’ll soon stock up again,” declared Bart. “It will be good hunting now, and, though we can’t shoot any deer, I may get a chance at another bear, and there will be plenty of rabbits and game birds. We’ll take a chance at it after breakfast.”
They started out, taking care to have their compasses with them, though they did not expect to go far. No bears were to be seen, but partridge, pheasants and wild turkeys were plentiful, and, in addition to getting a supply of these, they shot several rabbits.
In the tent that evening, before going to bed, the boys were cleaning their guns, in anticipation of a hunt the following day. Suddenly Fenn, who was nearest the flap, uttered a word of caution.
“Listen,” he said in a whisper. “I think I hear something.”
The others became silent at once, but they heard nothing.