The wind was blowing hard, and George was not sure that the sound of the shots would carry to his chums. He did not know just how far they were from him. So, after waiting a bit, he strolled down the snow-covered road a bit, and fired again. He repeated this three times, at intervals, before he heard an answering shot. Then he raised his voice in a yell, and soon was relieved to be joined by Jack.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
“The road—I’ve found it,” George answered.
“Where’s Bert—and Tom?”
“Haven’t seen either of them.”
“Well, they’re probably looking yet. We’ll fire some more shots and bring ’em up.”
George and Jack fired at intervals, the signal each time being two rapid shots, but it was some time before they had an answer. It finally came in the shape of another shot, followed quickly by a shout.
“It’s Bert,” said George.
“Sounded more like Tom,” was his chum’s guess. While they waited, they exchanged experiences. Jack told of vainly floundering about in the drifts, while George had better news to impart.
“I fairly stumbled on the road,” he said.