“There, I knew I heard something,” he shouted, as a faint but distinct cry reached their ears above the wail of the storm.
“Help, help.”
The last time the call was barely audible and although they listened intently it was not repeated.
CHAPTER VI.
COALS OF FIRE.
“There’s someone out there sure’s you’re alive,” Bob shouted as he closed the door. “Come on, we’ve got to make it snappy,” he said, as he began to pull on his moccasins.
“Who in the world can it be?” Jack asked, as he donned his mackinaw and pulled his cap well down over his ears.
In another moment they were fastening their snow-shoes on their feet on the porch.
“I believe it’s worse than when we came in if such a thing is possible,” Jack declared, shouting at the top of his voice, in order to make himself heard, as they started toward the lake.
And such seemed to be the case. It was impossible to see more than a half dozen feet ahead and the rays from their flashlights availed but little against the thick cloud of falling snow. Every few steps they paused to listen, but not a sound save the roar of the wind and the creaking of the trees as they bent their lofty tops to the strength of the blasts, came to their ears.
“He must have given out,” Bob shouted, as they paused again at the end of the wharf, “and unless we find him mighty quick he’ll be buried.”