They had arranged it so that the shack could be closed against the weather in time of stress. Phil made sure they had an abundance of fuel handy, for he said they would need it right along. The fire was to be kept up through the night; for a certain amount of heat might be expected to enter the lean-to through the opening where the canvas apron was drawn aside.
The fresh meat was hung from a limb, and high enough from the ground to prevent any wandering wolf from jumping up and carrying it off. Lub had been very solicitous about that part of the program, instructing the others to make sure by actual tests that it was a sufficient distance from the ground.
“Bear meat is too hard to get,” he said, with considerable pride, “to want to feed it to the sneaking wolves.”
Of course the others indulged in another pantomime laugh, as though they quite enjoyed hearing the peace-loving Lub talk in that strain. It did them no harm, and seemed to afford Lub more or less pleasure, so none of them attempted to shatter his dream of conquest by rude remarks.
Although X-Ray Tyson was the one most interested in the snowfall he never aroused himself enough at any time during the night to crawl out and take an observation as to the state of the weather.
Phil and Ethan looked after the fire; though on several occasions when one of them reentered the shack after performing this duty a sleepy voice would inquire after the weather conditions, and on hearing that the snow was still falling heavily X-Ray would grunt his usual phrase:
“That’s hunky-dory; let her come!”
With the arrival of morning there could no longer be any doubt that winter had set in for good. A foot of snow on the level, with many drifts that were several times that deep, told how busy the old man plucking geese aloft had been while the Mountain Boys slept.
X-Ray was wild with delight.
“At last my day has come around!” he kept repeating over and over; “the day I’ve been waiting for so long. When shall we make a start, Phil?”