They needed no second warning, but leaped from the shelter with all the alacrity of which they were capable. They did not stop at the camp fire, but, led by Harry, leaped the wall of snow and scattered to the right and the left.
They were not an instant too soon, for the next gust of wind brought down, not one tree, but two, smashing the shelter flat, and scattering the burning sticks of the fire. The end of one limb hit Fred, and hurled him on his breast, and old Runnell had his left ear badly clipped.
“Oh, my! Sa—save me!” spluttered Fred. “Take the tree off of me, somebody!”
Joe and Harry ran forward, and assisted him to arise. Then they yelled to old Runnell, who was in the midst of the pine branches.
“I’m all right,” was the answering cry. “Got my ear pretty badly scratched, but that don’t count in such a smash-up as this.” And then the old hunter joined the others.
The two fallen trees had loosened a third, so they did not dare to go into the branches to rescue their traps and stores. The branches lying over the camp fire soon caught, and then the trees began to blaze up like huge torches.
“Our traps——” began Joe, when, with a crash, the third tree came down. This hit the fire a heavy blow, and for the moment it was partly extinguished.
“Now it’s safe enough to go in!” came from old Runnell. “Put out the blaze with snow, boys, or everything will be burned up.”
They came closer, and began to pile in all the snow they could, taking huge chunks from what was left of the wall for that purpose. By working steadily for five minutes, they got the fire under control, and then went in and kicked out what little remained.
“Well, this is the worst yet!” groaned Fred, after the excitement was over. “Here we are, homeless, in the middle of the night, and with the thermometer about ten degrees below nothing at all.”