CHAPTER XI
THROUGH THE ICE
Warming, comforting beams of light shone from a large, low building set back from the road in a little clearing of the woods. It was too dark to see more than this—that the structure offered shelter, warmth and light. Yes, and something else, for there was borne on the wings of the wind the most delicious odor—the odor of supper.
"Pile out, folks! Pile out!" cried the genial old hunter. "Here we are! At Elk Lodge! No more storm! No more cold! Get inside to the blaze. I reckon mother's about given us up; but we're here, and we won't do a thing to her cooking! Pile out!"
It was an invitation that needed no repetition. It was greeted with a merry shout, even Mr. Sneed, the grouch, condescending to say:
"Ah, that sounds good!"
"Ha! Den if dere iss food to eat I dinks me dot I don't need to eat my pretzels. I can safe dem for annoder time!" cried Mr. Switzer, as he got out.
There was a laugh at this, and it was added to when Mr. Bunn called out in his deepest tragic voice:
"Ha! Someone has my silk hat!"