They were warm, however, and other discomforts were a minor consideration. And in a few moments all hands were sleeping soundly while the storm raged about their little tent. All the rest of that day and well into the night it roared incessantly. Then gradually it began to abate in fury, and finally “blew itself out” as Martin said. By sunrise there was scarcely a breath of air stirring, but everything creaked and sparkled in the cold.
Getting out of the bag proved to be almost as hard a task as getting into it, but the old hunter finally worked his arms free and then crawled out, pulling the boy after him. Both were stiff and lame from lying in the cramped position, but they were soon limbered up by dancing about to keep warm while they gnawed at the frozen pemmican and packed the sled.
Fortunately the fury of the wind had swept the plain clear of new snow as fast as it had fallen on the glassy crust, so that the few elevations on its surface were easily seen. One of these a quarter of a mile away proved to be Martin’s sled, clear of snow on the windward side, with a long pointed bank slanting off to leeward. So that in half an hour’s time they had recovered it, harnessed the dogs, and were making their way as quickly as possible to the edge of the woods for which they were aiming the day before.
The distance proved to be short—only a scant three miles. But Larry was still weak, and was tottering and almost exhausted when they finally wallowed through the snowbanks at the edge of the great spruce forest. He had said nothing to Martin of his weakness, but the old man had been watching him out of the corner of his eye and was well aware of his condition.
As soon as they reached an open space among the trees, therefore, Martin stopped and made a roaring fire, while Larry sat on his sled and rested, watching the old man brewing tea and cooking a hot meal. His legs ached and his head swam a little, although he was beginning to feel more like his old self by the time their breakfast was over. But the thought of the weary hours of toil through the woods was almost intolerable; and he was ready to cry for joy when Martin announced that he “was going to look around for a camp,” leaving the boy to toast his shins by the fire. “And I may find something to shoot while I’m looking,” the old hunter added as he started on his search.
In half an hour Martin returned fairly beaming at his success. He had found no game, but he had stumbled upon a camping place which he announced was “the best in all Canada.” “And these woods are full of game, too,” he added.
The camping place which Martin had discovered was indeed an ideal, as well as a very unusual one. It was a natural excavation under the south side of an overhanging ledge of rock which was so protected from the wind that only a thin layer of snow covered its rock floor. A roaring fire built at the entrance warmed the hollowed out space like a great room, and Larry found that the old hunter had started such a fire and left it to warm things up while he returned for the toboggans. It seemed a sylvan paradise to the exhausted boy.
The hunter watched the boy slyly as they stood in the warm glow by the fire. “Perhaps you’d rather go on than to stop here over to-morrow,” he suggested with a twinkle in his eye.
For answer the boy threw off his heavy coat, went over to his toboggan, and began unfastening Kim and unpacking his load. And Martin with a little laugh followed his example.
“You’ll stay and keep house to-morrow,” he explained as he worked, “while I go out and have a try at some of this fresh meat that is running loose around here. We need a supply to take the place of what we’ve eaten in the last week, and I never saw a likelier place for getting it, judging by the signs.”