the wind as it tore
through the woods and along the gulch with the force of a hurricane. The
snow was coming down "in chunks," as Randy put it, and mingled with it
were tree branches, small brush, and dried tundra. In one corner of the
cabin the wind had found a crack about six inches long and less than a
sixteenth of an inch wide, and through this crack the snow had sifted
over the entire floor.

"Jerusalem! the roof is coming down!" cried Earl, when they had been up
a few minutes, and while his uncle was stuffing a piece of cloth in the
crack mentioned. There was a great noise overhead as the hurricane tore
away the top joint of the stovepipe. Through the opening poured a lot of
snow, which, falling on the hot stove, sent up a cloud of steam. To stop
the snow from coming in, Foster Portney climbed up on the top of the
table and nailed a bit of a board over the hole.

"We can't have that stovepipe up there, that's certain," he said. "We'll
have to stick it out of the side window. It won't look very elegant, but
I reckon we're not keeping house on looks up here." And by their united
efforts the stove was swung around in front of the little window, and
the upper end of what was left of the pipe was twisted around and
pointed outside, after one of the small window panes had been taken out.
Around the pipe Mr. Portney fitted a square sheet of tin, obtained from
an empty tomato can. Then the floor was cleared of snow and the fire
started up afresh.

The hurricane, or blizzard, lasted until six o'clock in the morning, and
during that time nobody thought of going to sleep again. The cabin
shook and rocked, and had it not been for the shelter of the cliff would
have gone to pieces. The snow kept piling higher and higher until it
threatened to cut off the smokepipe again.

"Perhaps we'll have to swing the stove around to the front," said Foster
Portney. "We can let the pipe out near the roof, and build a little hood
over it, so that the snow from the cliff can blow right over into the
gulch." And later on this was done.

"This will stop work in the gulch," said Randy. "It's too bad! What on
earth are we going to do with ourselves from now until next spring?"

"We'll try to keep alive and well, Randy," returned Mr. Portney,
seriously. "Remember, from now on comes the tug-of-war, as the old
saying goes."

But work was not over, as Randy had surmised. To be sure, when the storm
ceased at noon it was found the snow was nea