It was hard work, pulling the sled, but the exercise kept them warm, and they trudged on, plunging into drifts which the wind quickly raised. It started to snow again and the flakes began to blow across their path whipped into stinging particles by the force of the gale. They were enveloped in a white cloud through which they could see only dimly.
“Say, it’s getting worse and worse!” exclaimed Ned, as he paused for breath after a particularly stiff bit of pulling.
“Boys, it’s a regular blizzard, that’s what it is,” cried Bart. “We’re certainly in for it now. I don’t believe Jim will come for us in a storm like this.”
“If it isn’t a blizzard it’s the best imitation of one I ever saw,” remarked Frank. “What are we going to do?”
“Only thing is to keep on,” replied Bart.
“Are we going in the right direction?” asked Ned. “Fenn, suppose you take a look at the compass.”
Fenn, who carried the little instrument, reached in his overcoat pocket for it. He did not find it. Then he looked in several other pockets.
“What’s the matter? Haven’t lost it, have you?” asked Bart.
“I’m afraid so. Didn’t I give it to you, Ned, this morning?”
“Never saw it,” replied Ned.