“We’ll have a tale to tell when we get back,” said Joe.
“Let us take the tails to verify our tale,” laughed Harry, and cut off the wolves’ tails without further words.
It was not until half an hour later that they had their drags fixed, ready to start back for Pine Island. By this time the snow was coming down heavily.
“We’re up against a regular storm now, that’s certain,” came from Joe, as he surveyed the darkening sky.
“Well, I declare, if I haven’t lost my pocket-knife!” ejaculated Harry, as he searched his pockets. “It’s the new one, too—the one Laura and Bessie gave me on my last birthday.”
Both, of the youths began a search that lasted another quarter of an hour, when the knife was found among the branches of one of the drags.
“And now don’t let us lose any more time,” came from Joe. “The wind is rising, and we’ll have all we can do to get back to the lodge before night.”
He was right about the wind. It was already moaning and sighing among the pines, and causing the snow to swirl in several directions. The increased cold also affected them, and caused Harry to shiver.
“I’d give as much as a dollar to be back to camp,” he announced. “Hauling this load is going to be no picnic.”
“Follow in my footsteps, Harry,” came from his brother, and Joe led the way out of the wood and down to the lake shore. Here it seemed to snow and blow harder than ever, and the snow was piling up in drifts that looked far from inviting.