“And one I shall never forget,” added Andy.
“We are having enough adventures for one outing,” laughed Boxy. “I wonder what will happen next?”
“Nothing much to-day, I imagine,” said Jack. “See, it is snowing again.”
He was right. While they had been fighting the flames it had ceased, but now the white flakes began once more to drift downward, at first sparingly, but thick and fast by the time the morning meal was over.
“This means a day in camp, I suppose,” grumbled Boxy. “My! when will it stop?”
“When the clouds are empty,” laughed Harry. “Boxy, make the best of it, and be thankful we have enough to eat.”
“We’ll set to work making traps,” suggested Jack. “Pickles, come on and give us a lesson.”
They withdrew into the hut, leaving the fire to take care of itself. They brought several pine torches with them, and these, along with a sperm candle, made the interior of the place tolerably light.
For several hours they sat grouped around the colored youth, while he, with a jack-knife, half-a-dozen thin slabs of wood, some stout twine and several pliable switches, showed them how to construct a squirrel trap, a rabbit trap, and also traps for various birds.
“But we can’t do nuthin’ wid dem jess now,” remarked Pickles. “’Cos we can’t find no runs in dis snow.”