"Well, I'm glad to know that they won't suffer. It's snug as a bug in a rug in here," Jack declared.
"How about a story, Lucky?" Bob asked.
For more than two hours, while the storm howled and blew outside, the Indian entertained them with wonderful stories of the North Land. He was a splendid story teller in spite of his broken English and they could hardly believe it when he announced that it was nearly eight o'clock and time they were asleep.
"Injun shovel off snow an' den we go sleep," he said as he wiggled out of his bag.
"Is it snowing as hard as ever?" Bob asked when he slid back into the dugout.
"Heem come down heap hard."
"Guess we'll have to hole up here for the rest of the winter," Jack said.
"Not so bad if we could sleep all the time," Bob laughed.
In spite of the hard ground they were soon fast asleep. Bob awoke some hours later and felt the Indian moving at his side.
"Anything wrong?" he whispered