“No,” said the old woman, “Jim is a logger and wood cutter, but he doesn’t work at Cedar Camp. That’s too far off for him to go to and get back from.”
“Too far off!” echoed Nan, and she began to have a funny feeling, as she told Bert afterward.
“Yes,” resumed Mrs. Bimby. “Cedar Camp is away over on the other side of the hills. You’re a long way from home. You must have taken the wrong road in the storm.”
“I—I guess we did,” admitted Bert. “But couldn’t your husband take us back?”
Again Mrs. Bimby shook her head.
“Jim, my husband, isn’t home,” she said. “He went over to town just before the storm to get us something to eat. But now I don’t see how he’s going to get back,” and she went to a window to look out at the storm.
It was getting much worse, as Bert and Nan could see. The wind howled around the corners of the log cabin of Jim Bimby, the logger, and the blast whistled down the chimney, even blowing sparks out around the door of the wood-burning stove.
“Yes, it’s a bad storm,” went on the old woman. “I wish Jim was back, and with some victuals to eat. When you twins knocked I thought it was Jim. I wish he’d come back, but he’s an old man, and he may fall down in the snow and not be able to get up. He isn’t as strong as he used to be. I’m certainly worried about Jim!”
“Oh, maybe he’ll come along all right,” said Nan, trying to be helpful and comforting.
“If he doesn’t pretty soon it’ll be night, and in all this storm he never can find his way after dark. But you children take your things off and sit up and have a cup of tea with me. I’ve got some tea and condensed milk left, anyhow.”