“Phew! but this storm is a corker,” exclaimed Fred. “I’m glad we haven’t got to travel in it.”
“We needn’t stir until it clears off,” said Joel Runnell. “That will give Joe a chance to mend.”
Breakfast was late, and they took their own time in eating the fish and potatoes that had been prepared. After this they gazed out of the window for a while, and then sat down to play at dominoes and checkers, both games having been brought along by Fred for just such an emergency.
Yet with it all the day passed slowly, and the boys were not sorry when, at nightfall, the snowing ceased, and the wind also fell.
“It’s going to be a clear day to-morrow,” the old hunter predicted. “We ought to have some fine sport.”
It was not yet nine o’clock when the boys and the old hunter retired for the night. The fire was fixed with care, so that no sparks might set fire to the lodge.
It did not take long for the boys to get to sleep. Each occupied a separate bunk in the sleeping apartment, while old Runnell stretched himself on the floor in the living-room.
Fred had been asleep about an hour, when he awoke with a start. What had aroused him he could not tell, until a peculiar sensation along one of his lower limbs attracted his attention.
“What in the world can that be?” he asked himself. “Am I getting a chill, or is it rheumatism?”
He caught his breath, and on the instant his heart almost stopped beating from fright. Something was in the bunk; something that was crawling over his lower limbs and up to his breast!