"Don't let the wind blow it out," pleaded his chum. "Here, use my cap."
The papers were placed beside the cap, and Shep struck the match several times. Both of the boys hardly dared to breathe. Then came a flash, and a tiny flame sprang up, and the papers were set to blazing. They put on the smallest and driest of the twigs and then the small branches, and both tended the fire with as much care as an infant receives from its nurse. Soon it became stronger and stronger, and they breathed a deep sigh of relief and put on some big pieces of wood.
As Snap had said at camp, the fire brightened things up wonderfully and both boys felt lighter-hearted as the ruddy glare lit up the scene. They found something of a circular hollow under the cliff with a big fallen tree just beyond it. They brought the fire to one side of this hollow, and banked up the snow on the other side, and soon the shelter began to grow warm. Then they brought in the deer and hung the game in a fork of the fallen tree.
"Lucky we brought that lunch along," said Shep. "I am as hungry as a bear."
"So am I," returned Whopper, "and I don't think that little lunch is going to satisfy me. What's the matter with broiling a venison streak?"
"Do you want to cut up the deer before we get back to camp?"
"Most likely we'll have to. If this snow keeps on there is no telling how long we'll be snowbound."
"That is true, too. Well, we needn't cut up the whole deer—only cut out what we want to use."