Dick Travers and Tom Clifton volunteered for the task, and work was resumed. Sam Randall and Hackett began to brace the sides with stout poles, and when this was done, they proceeded to bank the snow all around, beating it down with the backs of their shovels until it formed a compact mass.
Bob Somers and Nat, who insisted on helping, got on the roof, while Dave Brandon kept them well supplied with fir brush. The two worked with great care, beginning at the front, and being sure that each lot they put on overlapped that which was underneath.
"It will be a good, tight roof, Nat," remarked Bob, with satisfaction.
"And the snow around the sides ought to make it warm as toast."
"Rather have this than a ready made cabin any day—or night, either," grinned Nat. "There, Somers—when we make the roof a bit snug where it joins the wall, our work is done."
"And a good job, too," commented Dave Brandon from below.
All now began to assist in piling up the snow, notwithstanding the gathering gloom. But the twilight, ere long, had almost given way to darkness. The opposite shore of the lake was lost to view, while toward the west a sombre hillside rose against a greenish gray sky.
"Too dark to see," sang out Dick Travers, finally.
"We'll have supper, and put on a few finishing touches by firelight," said Bob.
"That's where you're right—no more work for me, until I get something to eat," added Dave. "It's another 'undeniable fact.'"