“There,” said Archie, at length, leaning on his ax, and surveying the pile of wood he had cut; “I guess that will last us through the night.”
“Yes, that’s a plenty,” said Frank. “Come, boys, supper is ready!”
Archie accordingly entered the hut, and, after depositing his ax in a corner, picked out a warm place by the fire, and commenced helping himself to the eatables. The meal consisted of squirrels, which had been roasted on spits before the fire, coffee, and bread and butter. Their long tramp—they had made about twenty miles since morning—had sharpened their appetites, and the supper rapidly disappeared. But there was enough left for the dogs, and after they had been bountifully fed, and the supper dishes washed, the boys stretched themselves out on their blankets before the fire. Each seemed to be occupied with his own thoughts. The sifting of the snow over the roof of the hut, the crackling of the fire, and an occasional howl of a wolf, were the only sounds that broke the stillness. At length, Harry said:
“Now, boys, this is the kind of a life I enjoy. Doesn’t it make a fellow feel comfortable, to lie here and listen to the storm, and know that he is securely sheltered? For my part, I don’t see how a person can live cooped up in a city all his life.”
“It is a difficult matter,” answered Archie; “for I have tried it, and profess to know something about it. How many times I have sat in school, when I had a hard lesson to get, and looked out of the window, and wished that I was off in the woods somewhere!”
“Well, you’re here at last,” said George; “but the only way to pass a long winter evening is in listening to a good story. Come, Frank, give us one.”
“Yes,” chimed in Harry, “give us something exciting.”
“A hunting adventure,” said Archie, “or a fight with the Indians.”