"That's true, but I don't see how we are going to get away now. I suppose somebody will stand on guard all the time."
"Perhaps Dick and Mr. Barrow will come to the rescue."
"If they can find the way. The wind and snow will cover the trail pretty well."
"There's no use of crying over the affair. If we can break away, I'll be for doing so."
"So will I."
"Hi, you stop your talking in there!" shouted Dan Baxter. "Plotting to run away, I reckon. It won't do you any good. If you try it, somebody will get a dose of buckshot in the leg."
"You don't mean to say you're going to stop our talking," said Tom, in indignation.
"That's just what I do mean to say. Now stop—or go hungry."
As the Rovers did not wish to starve, they relapsed into silence. A meal was being prepared by the Baxter party, and the appetizing odors floated into the inner chamber, where Tom and Sam sniffed them eagerly, for the walk and the bracing air had given them an appetite.
"Smells good, don't it?" remarked Dan Baxter, as he came in, fire-brand in hand, and confronted Tom.