irred; the flap opened, and Macgregor
thrust his face out, blinking, red and dazed.

"Time to get up!" Fred shouted.

Mac crawled out and shook off the snow, looking disconcerted.

"Snowed in, with a vengeance!" he remarked. "Where's the camp--and
where's Maurice?"

After prodding about they located the third member of their party at
last, and dug him out. As for the camp, there was none, and they could
only guess at where the toboggan with their stores might be buried.

"This ends our skating," said Maurice. "It'll have to be snowshoes
after this. Good thing we got so far last night."

"No thanks to me!" Fred remarked. "I was the expert skater; I believe
I said I'd set the pace, and I was the first to cave in. I hope I do
better with the snowshoes."

"Neither snowshoes nor skates to-day," said Peter. "We can't travel
till this storm blows over. Nothing for it but to build a camp and sit
tight."

After groping about for some time they found the toboggan, unstrapped
the snowshoes, and used them as shovels to clear away a circular place.
In doing so they came upon the black brands of last night's fire, with
the camp kettle upon them where they had left it. Fred ploughed
through the snow and collected wood for a fresh fire, while Peter and
Maurice set up stakes and poles and built a roof of hemlock branches to
afford shelter from the storm. It was only a rude shed with one side
open to face the fire, but it kept off the snow and wind and proved
fairly comfortable. Fred had coffee made by this time, and it did not
take long to fry a pan of bacon. They seated themselves on a heap of
boughs at the edge of the shelter and ate and drank. They all were
stiff and sore, but the hot food and coffee made a decided improvement.

"What surprises me," remarked Maurice, "is that we didn't freeze last
night, sleeping under the snow. But I never felt warmer in bed."

"It was the snow that did it. Snow makes a splendid nonconductor of
heat," replied Macgregor. "Better than blankets. I remember hearing
of a man who was caught by a blizzard crossing a big barren up north
with a train of dogs. The dogs wouldn't face the storm; he lost his
directions; and finally he turned the sledge over and got under it with
the dogs around him, and let it snow. He stayed there a day and a
half, asleep most of the time, and wouldn't have known when the storm
was over, only that a pack of timber wolves smelt him and tried to dig