s time, where snowy pocks showed like white
blurs on the black water.

"Going to portage?" mumbled Maurice.

"No use trying to go any farther," replied the medical student, and his
voice was hoarse. "Fred's played out. Snow's getting too deep,
anyway. Better camp here."

Maurice would have been glad to drop where he stood. But they dragged
the toboggan ashore somehow, caring little where they landed it. Peter
rolled Fred off into the snow. The boy groaned, but did not waken, and
they began to unpack the supplies with stiffened hands.

"Got to get something hot into us quick," said Peter thickly. "Help me
make a fire."

Probably they were all nearer death than they realized. Maurice wanted
only to sleep. However, in a sort of daze, he broke off branches,
peeled bark, and they had a fire blazing up in the falling snowflakes.
The wind whirled and scattered it, but they piled on larger sticks, and
Macgregor filled the kettle from the river. When the water was hot he
poured in a whole tin of condensed milk, added a cake of chocolate, a
handful of sugar and another of oatmeal, too stiffened to measure out
anything.

Maurice had collapsed into a dead sleep in the snow. Peter shook him
awake, and between them they managed to arouse Fred with great
difficulty. Still half asleep they swallowed the rich, steaming mess
from the kettle. It set their blood moving again, but they were too
thoroughly worn out to think of building a camp. They crept into their
sleeping-bags, buttoned the naps down over their heads and went to
sleep regardless of consequences.

Fred awoke to find himself almost steaming hot, and in utter darkness
and silence. All his muscles ached, and he could not imagine where he
was. A weight held him down when he tried to move, but he turned over
at last and sat up with an effort. A glare of white light made him
blink. He had been buried under more than two feet of snow.

It was broad daylight. All the world was white, and a raging snowstorm
was driving through the forest. The tree-tops creaked and roared, and
the powdery snow whirled like smoke. Fred felt utterly bewildered.
There was no sign of the camp-fire, nor of the toboggan, nor of any of
his companions, nothing but a few mounds on the drifted white surface.

Finally he crawled out of his sleeping-outfit and dug into one of these
mounds. Two feet down he came upon the surface of a sleeping-bag, and
punched it vigorously. It st