“Perhaps so. This puts me in mind of the time Sam Barringford and I were journeying to Fort Oswego, and got caught in a terrible storm—the time we got a bear.”
“You were after Jean Bevoir then, weren’t you?”
“Yes, we thought he had Nell as a prisoner. My, but that was a howler, Henry!”
“Well, this is going to be a howler, too! Listen to the wind rising!”
There was no need to listen, for they could not have shut out the sound had they tried. The flakes of snow had given way to fine, hard particles resembling salt, and these pelted them in the face until they could not see and had to turn around to catch their breath.
“May as well give it up,” said Henry, after struggling along for almost a mile. “Let us find some place under the cedars.”
They had reached a spot where the cedars were plentiful, and picked out one with the lower boughs bent down to the ground. Getting under this they were sheltered from the biting wind, and had a chance to rest and consider the situation.
“One thing is certain, I don’t want to stay out all night without something to eat and without a fire,” said Henry, who loved all the comforts of a hunter’s life. “We must find a better shelter than this. We can’t start a blaze here without the danger of setting fire to the forest.”
“I’m willing to go anywhere, providing it isn’t too far,” answered Dave.
Having rested for half an hour they started onward once more. They soon reached a spot that looked familiar to both of them.