"Enough to entertain all comers," Bob added.
"We'll get it while you're getting supper," Jack told him and the Indian nodded assent.
But it was not so easy to keep his promise as he had thought. The snow was now so deep that all the dead underbrush was buried out of sight and the darkness was rapidly increasing.
"Looks kind of dubious," Jack said after they had been hunting for several minutes.
"I'll say it does, but we've got to find some and that's all there is to it," Bob replied. "I don't want those wolves nibbling at my toes tonight."
"I reckon they'd nibble more than your toes if they got that close," Jack declared. "But here's what we want so I guess your tootsies are safe."
He had found a dead tree almost ready to fall over and, as he spoke he gave it a shove and down it came.
"If it hasn't all gone to punk," Bob said as he came up.
A quick examination proved that, although the tree had been dead for some time, it was still fit for firewood and they set to work to cut it up so that they could drag it to the camp some fifty feet away.
"Think this one'll be enough?" Jack asked as he started off with the butt.