At this cry Fred appeared. He was scared, but realizing that rapid action was necessary, he piled the wood on the camp fire and set a pot of water to boiling. Then he helped the others into the shelter and arranged the blankets afresh, that all of them might be made as warm and comfortable as possible.
Joe recovered before long, but they had to work over Harry a good half hour before old Runnell pronounced him out of danger. One of his ears had been nipped by the cold, and so had his left foot.
“It was a close call,” said Harry, when he could talk. “I sank down just as if I was in a dream. I felt horrible just before that, but that feeling passed completely away.”
“Such a sleep is what hunters call the sleep of death,” answered Joel Runnell, with a shudder. “I had it once, when I was a young man. I was half frozen, and it took me weeks to get over it.”
The hot coffee served to warm all of them up, and as soon as he felt able, Runnell went out to cut more wood, assisted by Fred. The latter wanted to go out on the lake and bring in the abandoned deer, but the old hunter would not listen to it.
“We’ll wait until the storm is over,” he said. “No use of risking your life now.”
The wood was piled on both sides of the shelter, and this helped to protect them from the wind. Runnell also placed a big flat rock over the fire, and when his was very hot, transferred it to the center of the shelter, and put another rock to heat.
“That will make a footwarmer,” he said. “And when it is cold, we can exchange it for the one that is now getting warm,” and this was done, much to the satisfaction of everybody.
All that night the snow fell as hard as ever, and toward morning the wind increased to such a degree that they were afraid the pines would come down over their heads. Nobody could sleep, and they crouched near the shelter entrance, ready to leap out at the first intimation of danger. At a distance they heard a large tree come down with the report of a cannon. The snow sifted in despite all they could do to keep it out, and they had to work constantly to keep from being snowed under and smothered.
“And to think that old Skeetles and Dan Marcy are having it as comfortable as you please at the lodge,” said Joe, in deep disgust. “It’s a shame!”