“Crickey! is that you, Dannie?” returned Billy. “I thought I was done for.”
“Why didn’t you yell?” demanded Dan, laying hold of his brother’s wrists.
“And start something, maybe?”
“Well! you plucky young duffer,” exclaimed Dan, in some pride. “Now! out you come!”
Billy lay panting at his feet for some moments. Dan examined the hole into which his brother had fallen.
“Don’t suppose that’s a way into the den, do you?”
“So—solid under my feet, Dan,” gasped Billy. “That’s no entrance, I bet.”
“Come on, then. We’ll keep together this time. Haven’t found a sign of the way in yet.”
They took a wider circle about the hollow stump. Stumbling on, arm in arm (for Billy was getting exhausted, although he would not own up to it), the Speedwells made another complete round without discovering anything.
The way was so rough that it was impossible to recall just where the hollow stump stood. The boys had reached the bottom of the hill and the shore of the island was near at hand. But in that direction they could see but a short distance. The snow was like a thick curtain before their eyes.