There was a water barrel in the cabin.

"If we had filled this yesterday we wouldn't have had to work so hard
to-day," half grumbled Dan.

"Well, we want to do something, don't we?" retorted Prescott. "What did
we come out into the woods for? Just to sit around indoors and eat and
sleep?"

With the utmost industry it took a long time for the youngsters to fill
the water barrel.

"Now, we've enough for a week, anyway," remarked Dan, as he and Dick
poured the last pailfuls into the barrel.

"Perhaps enough for forty eight hours, though we don't want to be too
sure," replied Prescott. "We want water enough for cleanliness, for
cooking and for drinking. That will be quite a lot, I guess."

The others now came in, for their outdoor exercise had taken up more
than two hours of morning time.

"Wood, next, I suppose," remarked Tom, gazing regretfully at the already
diminished pile of wood.

"No; there's wood enough to last until to-morrow; probably until the
day after," Dave answered.

"But do any of you fellows see the storm stopping?" queried Dick.

"No," Dave and Tom both admitted.

"Then, as there's no telling how long this good old blizzard will last,
we'll do well to stack all the wood we can carry into this cabin."

"Why not take a little rest first?" urged Dan. "I'll do my share of the
work, all the time, but I'll admit that I'm tired just now."

"We can divide into two shifts, then," suggested Dick. "As I don't feel
very tired, I'll get into the first shift. Tom, do you feel plenty
strong?"

"Strong?" sniffed young Reade. "Humph! I'm ready, right now, to meet and
vanquish the biggest Bermuda onion that you can produce."

Dave had already started for the door. These three leaders of boydom in
Gridley began to ply their shovels vigorously, starting from a point in
the path already made to the spring. Working through drifts, in some
instances more than six feet deep, it was slow work. After twenty
minutes they went back to the cabin, Greg, Harry and Dan coming out to
take up the work.

Hen Dutcher was still toiling hard, for he had concluded that industry
was the only way to save himself unpleasant happenings.

"How soon are you fellows going to knock off and begin to think about
dinner?" demanded Hen.

"When we get good enough appetites, I suppose," laughed Dick.

"Appetites?" sniffed Dutcher. "Huh! I could eat one side of a beef
critter, right now."

"Go out in the snow and help one of the fell