“Come on down to the end of the shelter and make a beeline for the creek,” said Harry, as he slung his gun over his shoulder. “We can escape some of the wind by going that way.”
To this Jack agreed, and in another minute they started off side by side.
They had almost reached the end of the overhanging rocks when a low cry of distress broke upon their ears. They came to a halt, and gazed at each other in wonder.
“What was that?”
“It sounded like a human voice.”
“Help! help!” came faintly to their ears, and now they located the cry. It proceeded from a small cave-like opening but a few feet away.
They ran forward, and a moment later saw a sight that appalled them beyond measure.
There in the snow, huddled in a miserable group, were Pete Sully, Bill Dixon and Len Spencer, a fixed look of despair on each of their pinched and frozen faces.
“Why, Sully——” began Harry.
“Give me something to eat, please!” broke in the big fellow, staggering to his feet. “Something to eat!”