Whatever had happened to Nicknack he seemed glad now to be with his Curlytop friends. He ate the pieces of cookie and the cabbage leaves they gave him, and bleated to ask for more.
Turnover, the cat, and Skyrocket, the dog, who had been in the house ever since the big storm, were also glad to see their friend the goat.
"And we'll be glad to see that lame boy, whoever he is, when daddy and Uncle Frank dig him out," said Mother Martin.
With their big shovels it did not take the two men long to dig their way to the snow bungalow. The pile of white flakes was deep over it but not so deep that a tunnel had to be cut, though it was through a tunnel, as they found out afterward, that Nicknack had made his way from the bungalow to the house. Only it was a small tunnel, such as an animal would make wallowing his way through the drifts.
The day before, when looking for Nicknack, Uncle Frank and Daddy Martin had tunneled to the bungalow door, but in the night this tunnel had caved in, so they had to do the work over again.
"Here we are!" cried Uncle Frank, as his shovel struck on some wood. "This is the bungalow. Now to see who's inside of it!"
"Here's the place where the goat got out," went on Mr. Martin. "Whoever tied that note on his neck must have pulled loose a board to let him get out into the snow. Hello in there!" he called, striking with his shovel on the bungalow.
"Yes—I'm here," came back the faint answer.
"We'll have you out in a few minutes," cheerfully called Daddy Martin. "You'll soon be all right!"
Then he and Uncle Frank made larger the hole where the board had been torn off, for the snow was piled up against the door, having drifted heavily during the night.