But it was doubtful now if even a shout would have attracted Callack's attention. He was in his tent with some of the Indians. The others were also under shelter.
But now the snow, which had seemed to add to their discomforts, proved beneficial to them. As it drifted over their heads while they sat on the ground, bound to the stakes, it shut out some of the terrible cold. Soon there stole over the captives a feeling of delicious warmth. It was not the dangerous sensation that precedes death by freezing, but real warmth; the warmth from their bodies, retained beneath the covering of closely-packed snow.
Though they were completely covered, it was porous enough for them to breathe through, or they might have been suffocated to death.
They could only hear each other now with difficulty, as the snow muffled their voices. Mr. Baxter called to the boys occasionally to learn if they were still alive.
"I'm feeling all right," answered Fred once. "Only I wish Holfax would hurry."
"Wait until morning," advised Mr. Baxter hopefully. "I think he will come then."
Somehow the long night passed. They could tell when the sun arose slightly above the horizon by the increased light that shone through the snow blanket that covered them. They could hear faintly movements in the camp about them—Indians calling to one another.
The captives knew that their enemies were preparing breakfast, and, oh, how they wished for some hot tea, and some warm meat, or even some cold tallow! A candle would have been welcome, provided it was made from suet.
Soon could be heard the blows of picks being driven into the ice. Then shovels tinkled on the frozen crystals. The Indians had resumed their hunt for the buried treasure.
It had stopped snowing, and because of the warm breath of the prisoners little holes had been melted in the white mounds which covered them so that they could see out a bit. They observed a score of Indians digging all around the foot of the hummock, while Callack directed them, occasionally helping himself.