“It may sheer to the east,” suggested Brick.
“That is just what I am afraid of,” replied Jerry. “But we won’t borrow trouble before it comes. We have enough on our hands now.”
He pointed to the roof, which was sagging down considerably in the middle. There was evidently a heavy weight of snow on top.
“No way to remedy that,” he added. “We can’t get up there in such a deep snow. Let’s make the best of it, fellows. I’m thankful that I feel well after my cold bath last night.”
“If anything happens, those men may help us,” suggested Hamp.
“Not likely,” replied Jerry. “I’ll bet anything they’re worse off than we are. Probably they’ve got nothing to shelter them but a couple of rocks or a flimsy lean-to.”
“Then I pity them,” declared Brick. “But let’s have something to eat, fellows. I’m ravenous.”
His companions were equally hungry. All sat down on the straw, and for half a minute no one spoke or moved. An expression that was half serious, half comical, stole over each face.
Then Hamp opened a tin box and took out several dozen biscuit. He unrolled a napkin and disclosed about half a pound of chipped beef. He spread these things significantly in front of his companions. The act was enough to tell the tale.
“I thought so,” exclaimed Brick, dismally. “We’ll starve, sure. What fools we were to leave everything in the storehouse.”