Sitting near this for an hour made them so sleepy that they were glad to roll over wherever they chanced to be, and give themselves up to slumber.
The snow continued to fall heavily during the balance of the night. The wind howled through the adjacent trees in a mournful fashion, but within that fissure all was peaceful.
Once or twice the old frontiersman would awaken on feeling cold, and toss more fuel on the smoldering embers of the fire, after which he would again lie down.
So morning found them. They would not have known that the day had come if Dick had not made his way to the mouth of the fissure and looked out. Apparently some hunter instinct had warned him that sleeping time had passed.
The snow was falling as thickly as ever. There was already a foot, and more, of it on the ground. Up on the mountain, where a previous fall had remained, it probably was twice as deep.
To go out while the storm prevailed was hardly wise, much as the boys wanted to be on the move.
Dick had taken note of certain things while the French trader was talking to them, and particularly of the fact that, when Lascelles spoke of the “other camp” in which Jasper Williams was held a prisoner, he had, possibly unconsciously, nodded toward the east.
It was in that direction the great lake lay of which they had heard so much, and from one thing and another Dick came to the conclusion that the camp must be located on the border of this large body of water.
Roger was looking anxiously at the meager stock of meat which Mayhew had produced from his pockets. There might be enough to satisfy their present hunger, but, once it was gone, the future did not seem very inviting.