“What is it?” asked Nat.
“Go down the mountain, directly back of their camp, only it’s dangerous because it’s so steep. We can’t take the horses. I’ll try that way, however, before I’ll let Jerry Chowden laugh at us.”
“So will I,” answered Nat, and Sam and Bony said the same thing.
“I think we’re in for a storm,” remarked Will as they jogged along. “It’s beginning to snow.”
A few flakes were sifting lazily down, and they increased by the time the boys reached camp, where they found Budge and Long Gun busy tightening the tent ropes and piling the wood and provisions within the smaller supply tent.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jack.
“Storm comin’,” replied the Indian. “Plenty much bad. Git ready.”
Early the next morning Jack and his chums were awakened by the wind howling about their tent. It was cold, in spite of heavy blankets and thick clothing.
“B-r-r-r!” exclaimed Jack as he crawled out and went to the flap of the tent. Then he gave a startled cry.
“Boys, it’s a regular blizzard!” he said.