They devoted some time to searching for a convenient spot. The snow had become heavy and blinding, and penetrated even the timber.
“We’ll find a clump of screening bushes somewhere,” said Will, and they kept on through the woods.
At a little opening they paused, wet, chilled and discouraged.
Suddenly Will started.
“Hark!” he said, impressively.
Tom bent his ear to catch an ominous noise echoing strangely through the silent woods.
A distant baying sound was borne upon the breeze, becoming augmented in volume and nearness as they listened.
“What is it, Will?” inquired Tom, in awe-stricken tones.
“Wolves.”
Tom’s face grew pale and his hands began trembling violently.