He stopped abruptly, for a terrific crash almost stunned him, as the tree by which they stood went down, tearing its way through the adjacent branches in its fall, and causing the whole party to stagger.
“Keep still!” shouted Hendrick in a voice of stern command, as he glanced critically at the fallen tree.
“Yes,” he added, “it will do. Come here.”
He scrambled quickly among the crushed branches until he stood directly under the prostrate stem, which was supported by its roots and stouter branches. “Here,” said he, “we are safe.”
His comrades glanced upwards with uneasy expressions that showed they did not quite share his feelings of safety.
“Seems to me, Master Hendrick,” roared the captain, for the noise of the hurly-burly around was tremendous, “that it was safer where we were. What if the stem should sink further and flatten us?”
“As long as we stood to windward of it” replied Hendrick, “we were safe from the tree itself, though in danger from surrounding trees, but now, with this great trunk above us, other trees can do us no harm. As for the stem sinking lower, it can’t do that until this solid branch that supports it becomes rotten. Come now,” he added, “we will encamp here. Give me the axe, Oliver, and the three of you help to carry away the branches as I chop them off.”
In little more than an hour a circular space was cleared of snow and branches, and a hut was thus formed, with the great tree-stem for a ridge-pole, and innumerable branches, great and small, serving at once for walls and supports. Having rescued their newly made snow-shoes and brought them, with their other property, into this place of refuge, they sat or reclined on their deerskins to await the end of the storm. This event did not, however, seem to be near. Hour after hour they sat, scarcely able to converse because of the noise, and quite unable to kindle a fire. Towards evening, however, the wind veered round a little, and a hill close to their camp sheltered them from its direct force. At the same time, an eddy in the gale piled up the snow on the fallen tree till it almost buried them; converting their refuge into a sort of snow-hut, with a branchy framework inside. This change also permitted them to light a small fire and cook some venison, so that they made a sudden bound from a state of great discomfort and depression to one of considerable comfort and hilarity.
“A wonderful change,” observed Trench, looking round the now ruddy walls of their curious dwelling with great satisfaction. “About the quickest built house on record, I should think—and the strongest.”
“Yes, daddy, and built under the worst of circumstances too. What puzzles me is that such a tree should have given way at all.”