I should think we will," said the young man, carefully picking
up and laying some of the half-burned brands on the centre of the
crackling fire. "So will you."

"No, I shall never see home again."

"Bel, you're a lazy beggar, with a natural dislike to cold," said
Dallas. "It always was so, and you always used to have the worst
chilblains, and turn grumpy when they itched and burned. You don't make
the best of things, old chap."

"No, Dal, I haven't got your spirit. How many days longer will that
meal last?"

"That depends, dear boy, on whether we are frugal, or go on banqueting
and gorging."

"It is dreadfully low, isn't it?"

"Well, the supply is not great, but there is a morsel of bacon and a
frozen leg-bone of our share of the moose, whose roasted marrow will be
delicious. No; the larder is not well stocked, but the supply of fuel
is unlimited, and we have our gigantic bag of gold in the bank cellar."

"Curse the gold!"

"No, I will not do that, my dear boy, because, you see, I can take out a
handful, tramp down to the store, and come back laden with corn and wine
and delicacies in the shape of bacon and tinned meat."

"Dal, it's of no use; we must give up and go back."

"No, we must not, old chap; and even if I said the same, we couldn't get
away this winter time."

"You could. I'm doomed--I'm doomed!"

"Here, I say," cried Dallas, "don't begin making quotations."

"Quotations?"

"Yes; that's what the despairing old chap says in Byron's comedy, `I'm
doomed--I'm doomed!' and the other fellow says, `Don't go on like that;
it sounds like swearing when it ain't.'"

"Dal," cried Abel passionately, "how can you be so full of folly when we
are in such a desperate state?"

"Because I believe in `Never say die!'" cried the young man cheerily.
"You are cold, man. Allow me, my lord, to spread this purple robe
gracefully over your noble shoulders to keep off the draught. I say,
Bel, these blankets are getting jolly black."

"Thanks, Dal."

"And with your lordship's permission I will hang this piece of tapestry
over the doorway to enhance the warmth of the glow within. Haven't got
a couple of tenpenny nails in your pocket, have you? Never mind; these
pegs'll hold it up. Whoo! it does blow. We shall be quite buried in
the snow by morning."

"Yes, once more," said Abel gloomily.

"So much the warmer for it, Bel, and save the wood. I say, old chap, we
ought to be thankful that we have such a