"Oh, I'm not croaking," answered the smaller member of the Gun Club. "I shall be satisfied if we get back to camp alive with such a snow all around us."
"Giant, why didn't you hang up your stocking last night?" asked Whopper, jokingly, and this brought forth a general snicker, and then all the lads felt a trifle less blue.
Breakfast was certainly a slim affair, each person getting a small bite of duck, two crackers, a spoonful of cold beans Shep had brought along, and a drink of melted snow. Several gazed wistfully at the rabbit, but Snap shook his head at them.
"We've got to save that," he said. "You know that as well as I do."
"Don't you suppose there are some birds or squirrels or rabbits around here?" asked Shep.
"We can look—if the storm will let us."
Breakfast over, one after another of the young hunters went beyond the clump of spruces to look around. But the weather was so wild, and the snow so deep, all were glad to come back.
There was little of the holiday air in the gathering. All of the boys were sober, for they fully realized the peril of their situation. Their food would not last long, and where were they to get more?
At noon they had little more than a rabbit lunch—something that made Whopper sigh as he thought of the big Christmas dinner he had thought to feast upon.
"I think it is clearing a bit," said Shep, about three o'clock. "If we want to move now is our chance to do so."