"Here is a good place to rest," announced Henri, whose sharp eyes had marked the mouth of a cave among the bushes covering the sides of the ridge, along which line the footsore travelers had been continuously plodding for an hour or more.
"We can't stop too quick to suit me," said Schneider, easing his living burden to the ground.
The cave was shallow, but ample in dimensions for the three invaders, clean and dry, and containing a quantity of dried moss.
Comfortably placing the invalid, Schneider dropped like a log in his tracks. He was completely exhausted, and knew no more of discomfort or the waking world until roused by Henri vigorously tugging at his coat sleeve. "There's game in sight," excitedly whispered the boy, "bring your revolver; crawl, and don't make any noise!"
The suddenly awakened sleeper rubbed his eyes, and, comprehending what was wanted, instantly produced the trusty shooting iron, and as quickly crawled to the mouth of the cave. Henri pointed a trembling hand to the little clearing a few yards below them.
Several hares, pure white, were hopping about, scratching and burrowing in the brown loam, there free of snow.
Schneider had for a second an attack of nerves, similar to that fever in the amateur Nimrod when first blundering upon the wallow of a buck deer.
Henri gave the shaking marksman a poke in the ribs.
"Shoot, old scout, or give me the gun!"
By the poke and the hissed demand, Schneider was himself again.