“Gone—the wind took it up like a kite. Henry, we can be thankful that we weren’t killed.”
“You are right. Oh, how my breast hurts!”
“Any ribs broken, do you think?”
“No, I think I—I am scraped more than anything else,” answered the injured one.
As the fire was in a safe place, Dave stirred it up and helped Henry to a spot where he might keep warm. Then Dave dragged some tree-branches up in a semicircle, to keep off what little was left of the wind.
“We’ll have to look for our guns and traps,” said Henry. “Have you any idea where they are?”
“They can’t be far off, Henry. But why not wait until morning?”
“It’s not safe. Some wild animal might attack us.”
Taking a firebrand Dave made a torch of it and began a hunt. Soon he came across Henry’s rifle and other things. Then he brought out of the snow a hunting knife.
“Hullo! Whose hunting knife is this?” he asked, examining it carefully. “Henry, you didn’t have this, did you?”