"The weather is coming on cold," Jim Ferrers reported that evening, when he came back from the coon shack with Tom's supper.
"Is it going to be cold enough to put a crust on the snow?" Reade eagerly demanded.
"If it keeps on growing cold we ought to have a good crust by the day after tomorrow."
"I'll pray for it," said Tom fervently.
Next day the weather continued intensely cold. Jim Ferrers went to another shack to construct a pair of skis. These are long, wooden runners on which Norwegians travel with great speed over hard snow. Jim was positive that he could make the skis and that he could use them successfully.
Harry still remained weak and ill, caring nothing for food, though his refusals to eat drove Reads well-nigh frantic.
The morning after the skis were made, Jim Ferrers, who had relieved worn-out Tom at three in the morning, stepped to the young engineer's bunk and shook him lightly.
"All right," said Reade, sitting up in bed. "I'll get up."
He was out of the bunk almost instantly.
"I'm going to send Tim Walsh in to help you a bit," Jim whispered. "The crust is right this morning, and I'm off for Dugout. Before we forget it give me that nugget."