Chet threw down his load, and aided the pair to get out of the hollow. Andy came out with a neck full of snow, and his coat half off his back.
“Say, I don’t want any more of that!” he panted, digging the snow from one ear.
In a few minutes they went on again, Chet with the outfit taking the lead. Progress was slow, and all were glad to rest when the top of a small rise was gained.
“There is the Jeffer cabin,” said Chet, pointing it out.
“I don’t see any smoke,” added Andy. “What shall we do if Professor Jeffer isn’t at home?”
“Oh, I don’t think he’s away,” answered his chum. “But even so, I guess he’ll let us use the place—in such a snow as this.”
“We can pay him for the accommodations,” put in Barwell Dawson. “I’ll take care of that.”
It was nearly noon when they gained the cabin, rather a large structure, set in a grove of pines, and on the edge of a brook that was now covered with snow and ice. Chet, who was in advance, knocked loudly on the door.
At first there was no answer. Then a low voice asked who was there.
“It is I, Chet Greene, Professor.”