“The cabin is just as firm as ever,” said Hamp, as he pressed his weight against one side.
“It’s firmer,” asserted Brick. “It don’t wobble one bit now, and it did before.”
“That’s because the outspreading branches of the tree are holding it like a vise,” said Jerry. “I’ll tell you what, fellows, this accident is the best thing that could have happened to us. The cabin is as solid as though it was built on stone, and the roof can’t break down now, no matter how deep the snow becomes.”
This was undoubtedly true, and the boys were vastly relieved to hear it.
“If we only had the matches and provisions here,” said Brick. “Then we would be fixed.”
“Yes, we could stand a long siege,” assented Jerry. “But we’ve got to be up and doing. First, we’ll have a bite to eat, and then Hamp can tackle the tunnel.”
The storm still raged with unabated fury, and the stinging cold air penetrated to the cabin. The boys plugged up the hole, and then sat down to the scanty repast, which was soon over.
“Now for the tunnel,” said Hamp.
He removed the sled and gingerly unbuttoned the flap of canvas from the doorway.
The others helped him, and as fast as they removed the snow, they poked it out through the hole above. Finally the excavation was three feet deep, and high enough to admit Hamp on his hands and knees.