CHAPTER XII
THE BLIZZARD
When the boys awoke on the following morning, numb and stiff from cold in spite of the protection of their crudely constructed shelter, a full six inches of snow covered the surface of their blankets.
“Snow make um much warmer to sleep,” Toma explained to them, as he crawled out of his bed, very much as a husky gets out of a snowdrift.
Dick turned his eyes towards the open door of the shelter and shivered. Contrary to his expectations the storm had not abated during the night. A shining, white wall of snow almost shut out any view of their camp surroundings, while the wind continued to howl furiously.
To all appearances, the boys were shut in by the high, white walls of a snow prison. Snow sifted in the door of their shelter and through the numerous cracks in the walls.
“I’m not crazy about getting up,” Sandy observed, with a seriousness that brought a laugh from Dick and Toma. “Anyhow, nobody can get anywhere in a storm like this.”
“The wind, she blow from northwest,” Toma cut in. “No get lost when wind blow hard like that. Keep wind on left side. No like—but better than stay here.”
The young guide counted slowly on his fingers, and went on:
“Me know place where young Indian live. Him called Raoul Testawich. Got um cabin nice and warm, an’ mebbe we ketch um good dog team there.”
“Fine!” exclaimed Dick, “we’ll make a try for it. Sure you won’t get lost?”