“Then don’t you live alone?” Tess demanded.
“I have my brother with me,” said Rowdy, plunging on to the right.
The snow beat into their faces and eyes, almost blinding them and wholly stopping their chatter. Above their heads the huge trees rocked, limbs writhing as though they were alive and in pain. And from these writhing limbs the snow was shaken down in avalanches.
One great blob of snow fell square on Sammy, trudging on behind the procession, and he went down with a howl like a wolf, buried to his ears.
“Oh, Sammy! Sammy!” shrieked Tess, above the wind. “Are you hurt?”
“I—I’m smothered!” groaned the boy, struggling to get out of the heap of snow. “Hey, you Rowdy! Get us out of this, or we’ll be buried and lost.”
“Come on!” sang out the bigger boy from up ahead. “O-ee! Rafe!” he shouted.
A figure appeared before them—the figure of a boy not much bigger than Rowdy.
“What have you there?” a hoarse voice demanded.
“A rabbit.”