“If we keep on much longer we can build a mound clear to the top,” he declared.
This time they took more pains in packing the earth good and solid and it held. Jack found that his head just hit the covering when he stood on Bob’s shoulders. Leaning his back against the wall he reached up with his hands and started to make an opening. This proved easy as the top was spanned with long poles which in turn were covered with boughs on which was laid a covering of dirt and leaves. Quickly he pulled aside some of the boughs letting in a flood of light.
“Steady now,” he called. “I’m going up.” Grasping hold of two of the poles he had little trouble in raising himself through the opening and a moment later was on the ground.
“Just a minute now till I find a pole for you to climb up on,” he called back.
In a few minutes he had found what he wanted in the shape of a small fallen pine and in another five minutes Bob was standing by his side.
“One more scrape conquered.”
“Yes, and I was just wondering if we’d always be as fortunate,” Bob said soberly.
“Here’s hoping,” Jack replied as he began to strap his pack on his back.
So much time had been lost that they abandoned all hope of reaching the camp that night.
“We ought to get in in time to make Bangor with the bikes before tomorrow night, so it won’t make a whole lot of difference,” Jack said hopefully as they started off.