“I’m as hungry as two bears, and I can’t bear my hunger any longer,” said Boxy.
“That’s a bare kind of a joke,” grinned Andy.
There was a general laugh. Pickles lit the fire, which roared and leaped in the wind. The smell of broiling venison soon put every one in good humor.
It had ceased snowing, but the sky was still dark and threatening.
“We’ll have more by night, mark my words,” said Jack. “It has really just started.”
After breakfast the boys hunted up some long sticks, and to one end of each they either nailed a flat board whittled from a split-up log or bound a mass of stout twigs.
“Now we have both shovels and brooms,” cried Jack. “Whoop, now, it’s workin’ on de corporation, Oi am, do ye moind!” he went on, strutting around with one of the brooms on his shoulder.
“Well, I hope you work a bit faster than street men usually do,” returned Harry. “If you don’t, we won’t have much done by nightfall.”
“Oi’ll outdo yez all, so Oi will,” exclaimed Jack, and he sailed in with a vigor that left no doubt that he meant what he said.
The first work was to enlarge the circle outside of the doorway. This accomplished, Harry, Jack and Andy started to build the snowhouse, while Boxy and Pickles climbed up to get the snow from the roof of the hut, thus relieving them of any anxiety concerning the top of their domicile caving in.