“What kind of a house is it?”
“’Spose you come along and see,” said Sneak, groping about in the dim twilight for his cap, and the gun Glenn bad given him.
“I should like to see it, just out of curiosity,” replied Joe.
“Then go along with Sneak,” said Glenn, who approached the fire to prepare some medicine; “it is necessary that every thing should be quiet and still here.”
“If you’ll help me to feed and water the horses. Sneak, I’ll go home with you,” said Joe. Sneak readily agreed to the proposition, and by the time it was quite light, and yet before the sun rose, the labour was accomplished, and they set out together for the designated valley. Their course was somewhat different from that pursued when in quest of the wolves, for Sneak’s habitation was about midway between the river and the prairie, and they diverged in a westerly direction. But their progress was slow During the night there had been a change in the atmosphere, and a constant breeze from the south had in a great measure softened the snow-crust, so that our pedestrians frequently broke through.
“This is not the most agreeable walking I ever saw,” said Joe, breaking through and tumbling down on his face.
“That’s jest as much like swimming as walking,” said Sneak, smiling at the blunder of his companion.
“Smash it, Sneak,” continued Joe, rising up with some difficulty, “I don’t half like this breaking-through business.”
“You must walk lighter, and then you won’t break through,” said Sneak; “tread soft like I do, and put your feet down flat. I hain’t broke in once—” But before the sentence was uttered, Sneak had broken through himself, and stood half-submerged in the snow.
“Ha! ha! ha! you musn’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” said Joe, laughing; “but you may score one, now you have broken the shell.”