So sudden, in fact, was the halting, that Will, who was near the front end, was shot from the bob, and came down in the bank of snow, head first.
“Pull him out!” cried Jack, as he leaped off.
“Maybe he’s hurt.”
The others hastened to the aid of their chum, and he was soon hauled out. He seemed dazed, and there was blood coming from a cut on his head.
“Hurt much?” asked Jack anxiously.
“No—not much—hit my head on a stone under that pile of snow, I guess. But where are we?”
“Where we started for, I think,” replied Jack. “My, but that was a trip!”
“Petrified pole-cats! I should say so!” ejaculated Nat. “I thought we were goners!”
“Same here,” remarked Sam. “But we don’t seem to have arrived at any place.”