"Of course they will worry about us," Addison replied gloomily. "But I'm afraid Tom will get his death o' cold if we take him out. We ought to keep him warm."
Our own wet clothes had dried by that time, and, feeling hungry, we ate a part of our luncheon. Night came on with snow squalls; the wind roared in the forest. It was so bleak that we gave up all idea of going home; and, after bringing in ten or a dozen armfuls of wood, we settled down to spend the night there. Still Tom slept, but he breathed easier and had ceased to shiver. Suddenly he sat up and cried, "Help!"
"Don't you know where you are?" Addison asked. "Still dreaming?"
He stared round in the feeble light. "Oh, yes!" he said and laughed. "It's the old camp. I tumbled into the brook. But what makes it so dark?"
"It's night. You have been asleep two or three hours. We shall have to stay here till morning."
"With nothing to eat?" Tom exclaimed. "I'm hungry!"
In his haste to set off from home with Ellen he had neglected to take any luncheon. We divided with him what we had left; and he ate hungrily.
While he was eating, we heard a sound of squalling, indistinct above the roar of the wind in the woods.
"Bobcat!" Tom exclaimed. Then he added, "But it sounds more like an old gander."
"May be a flock of wild geese passing over," Addison said. "They sometimes fly by night."