All hands worked steadily, in spite of their fatigue.
"On a camping trip, a fellow can't expect to stop just because he's tired," declared Bob; "he must be willing to work hard and run up against all kind of snags."
"You bet!" agreed Sam; "and getting half frozen, on a winter trip, and half starved besides."
"Guess we've got enough work to last till midnight," observed Dave Brandon, cheerfully.
"Is that ground getting thawed out?" inquired Bob.
"It's ready for anybody except the poet laureate to begin digging," laughed the other. "Start right in, Sam Randall, or it will get frozen up again."
"It's not going to be an easy job," said Bob. "We'll all take turns."
"And we don't want the huts to get bowled over by the first puff of wind," added Tommy Clifton.
"That's so, little one," said John Hackett, patronizingly; "I'll bet we strike some of the worst gales that were ever heard of. It's getting pretty brisk now, and we may be out in it until about three o'clock to-morrow morning. Give me a spade, and I'll show you something fast in the way of digging."
Hackett found that he was going to have a hard task to live up to his boast, but he stuck bravely at it, assisted by Bob Somers and Sam Randall.