When two days had passed and the storm still raged, the scouts began to feel more anxious than ever. The snow continued to sweep past the cabin in blinding sheets. It was difficult to know whether all this came from above, or if some was snatched up from the ground and whirled about afresh.
In some places enormous drifts abounded, while other more exposed spots had been actually swept bare by the wind.
The scouts had not suffered in the least, save mentally. The cabin proved to be fairly warm, thanks to the great fire they kept going day and night; and they certainly had no reason to fear for any lack of provisions with which to satisfy their ever present appetites.
Still, from time to time, murmurs could be heard.
“One thing sure!” Sandy Griggs was saying toward noon on this third day of the blizzard, “this storm is going to upset a whole lot of our plans.” 173
“Knock ’em into a jiffy!” added Bluff.
“We’ll never be able to skate down the creek to the lake, if it’s covered with two feet of snow,” Sandy growled.
“Oh! for all we know,” laughed Paul, “this wind has been a good friend to us, and may keep the smooth ice clear of snow. We’d better not cry until we know the milk has really been spilled.”
“But any way,” Bluff continued, bound to find some cause for the gloomy feelings that clung like a wet blanket, “we’ll never be able to run our iceboats back home. Chances are we’ll have to drag them most of the way.”
“All right, then,” Paul told him, “we’ll make the best of a bad bargain. If you only look hard enough, Bluff and Sandy, you’ll find the silver lining to every cloud. And no matter how the storm upsets some of our plans we ought to be thankful we’ve got such a snug shelter, and plenty of good things to eat—thanks to Mr. Garrity.”