“Ever so much; there must be a great weight on them. What are we to do, Dick; shall we try and dig a way out?”
“That will be no good,” Dick answered; “not if it is deep; and if it has been snowing all night, there is no saying how deep it may be this morning down in this bottom. This drift-snow is like dust. I remember last winter that Bill Jones and Harry Austin and I tried to make a tunnel in a deep drift, but the snow fell in as fast as we scraped it away. It was just like dry sand.”
“We are all right for warmth,” Tom said; “but it feels quite stifling.”
“Yes, we must try and get some air,” Dick said. “The roof-sticks are close together down at our feet. There were three or four left over when we had finished, so we can take them away without weakening the roof. We might shove one of them up through the snow.”
The sticks were removed carefully, but a quantity of fine snow fell in on their feet. One was then shoved up through the top, but the only effect, when it was removed, was that it was followed by some snow powdering down on their faces.
“Let us tie four of them together,” Dick said. “I have plenty of string in my pocket.”
This was done, fresh sticks being tied to the bottom as the first were shoved up through the snow.
“Now, Tom, help me to work it about a bit, so as to press the snow all round, and make a sort of tube.”
For some time a shower of little particles fell as they worked, but gradually these ceased. Then the stick was cautiously lowered, being untied joint by joint, and looking up the boys gave a shout of pleasure. At the top of the hole, which was some six inches wide at the bottom, was a tiny patch of light.
“We have only just reached the top,” Dick said; “the snow must be near fifteen feet deep.”