Ten minutes later, the snow began to come down, fine granular pellets that stung like sand as the rising wind blasted it into their faces. Visibility was reduced to no more than fifty feet. Even the dogs were slowed down. The snow, mixed with the loose surface fluff of previous falls, piled up quickly in drifts. As it dragged at his boots more and more, Charley began to mutter angrily to himself in Indian.
“I don’t like it, Sandy,” Jerry said uneasily. “We’re never going to make that check point before dark.”
“At this rate we’ll never make it at all,” Sandy retorted. “Listen, Jerry, what do you say we get out and trot along with Charley? It’s bad enough pulling the sled by itself without our weight too.”
“Good idea,” Jerry admitted. “Let’s give the dogs a break.”
Sandy signaled Charley to stop and told him of their plan.
“All right,” Charley agreed. “I go up front and break trail.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lost in a Blizzard
For the next half hour the boys were able to keep up with the sled. But in the ever-deepening snow, their legs grew heavier and heavier. At last, they lost sight of the sled in the swirling flakes. When Jerry slipped and fell, Sandy cupped his hands to his mouth like a megaphone and yelled: “Charley! Char-r-ley! Wait for us.”
Gasping for breath, Jerry struggled up to his hands and knees. “I’ve had it, Sandy,” he gasped. “I can’t go any farther.”
Sandy helped his friend to get up and supported him with one arm. “C’mon, boy, we can make it. As soon as we catch up with the team you can rest awhile in the sled.”