CHAPTER IX.

THE GREAT STORM.

Mr. Raikes proved to be a very affable and genial sort of a man. He chatted with the boys for some time, and asked them a great deal about their plans.

Not once, however, did he refer to the business that had brought himself and Mr. Bogle into the wilderness.

"Isn't this a queer time of the year to go prospecting?" inquired Jerry, during a lapse in the conversation. "I thought summer was the right season."

Mr. Raikes' blue eyes expressed mild surprise, as he turned to the speaker.

"This is just the time for our line of business," he replied; and if he ever spoke the truth in his life, he spoke it then.

"We'll make out all right if the weather holds good," he added, hastily.

"I'm a little afraid there's a snow squall coming, though. The air just feels like it. It's not nearly so cold as when I started."

"That's so," exclaimed Hamp. "I can feel it getting warmer."

"You'd think it was downright hot if you were in my place," declared Jerry. "I'm actually sweating."

"That's the best thing for you," said Mr. Raikes, "only don't take cold after it. Well, I must be off. You boys want to sleep, and I suppose Joe is getting anxious about me. Of course, we will see each other again, since we are such near neighbors?"

Without waiting for a reply, Mr. Raikes shouldered his gun and strode down the ravine. The boys shouted good-by after him, and watched until he disappeared in the gloom.

"Not a bad sort of a fellow," commented Brick.

"He has mighty restless eyes," said Hamp. "When they weren't looking at you, they were searching around the camp."

"I noticed that he watched Brick pretty sharply," put in Jerry. "He was a mighty talkative fellow. Come to think of it, he found out everything about us, and didn't tell us a sc.r.a.p about himself."

Here the discussion of the departed Mr. Raikes ended, for the boys were too sleepy to think of anything else. Brick looked at his watch, and uttered a gasp of surprise.

"Half-past three o'clock. It will soon be morning."

"The roof of the cabin must be fixed before we go to bed," cried Jerry.

"It may snow at any time. You fellows will have to manage it, for I won't dare stir about till I get over this sweat."

Brick and Hamp undertook the contract, and, by following Jerry's instructions, they completed the work in a very few minutes. Then they dragged a big log down the ravine and put it on the fire.

The light faded, and dawn came. It was a dreary sort of a dawn, at best, for the weather had changed in a truly terrific manner. At midday the tired boys were still slumbering, blissfully ignorant of the warring elements outside. The afternoon advanced, and it was well toward evening when Brick yawned, stretched himself, and sat up. He looked at his watch.

"Great Scott!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "After four o'clock! What a sleep we've had!"

Then he noticed a sprinkling of snow on the pine boughs, and saw quite a layer of it in the front corners of the cabin. A loud humming noise was ringing in his ears, and mingled with it was a deep, sonorous roar.

Brick threw off the blanket and crawled to the door. He pulled the sled away and partly lifted the flap of canvas. When he saw a solid wall of snow staring him in the face, he uttered a shout that instantly woke his companions.

"Look out, or we'll have a cave-in!" cried Jerry, as he pushed the sled back in place. "Whew! what a storm this is! Just hear the wind roaring!"

"How are we going to see out?" asked Hamp.

For answer, Jerry took an ax and chopped a small, oblong hole in the front wall of the cabin, at the height of five feet from the ground. The boys crowded in front of it and looked out.

To say that they were astonished and alarmed, would but feebly express their feelings. The snow was level with the hole, and lay to the depth of five feet all through the ravine. The air was white with swirling flakes, and the lofty trees to right and left were creaking and groaning in the teeth of a tremendous gale.

Fortunately the storm was blowing from the northeast, and thus the cabin was effectively screened by the upper bank of the ravine. Had it been exposed, even partially, to the gale, it would have been demolished long ago.

Jerry stuffed an old coat into the hole to shut out the bitterly cold air that filtered through.

"This is a pretty ugly fix," he said, gravely. "I hope the storm won't keep up."

"We're snug enough in here, at any rate," replied Hamp.

"And we can stand a long siege," added Brick, who was disposed to be cheerful. To him, a snowstorm suggested only the pleasing excitement of winter sports.

"We are all right as long as the wind don't change," responded Jerry, "but if it does--then good-by to the cabin. The snow itself is not as deep as it looks. The wind blowing over the bank makes a sort of an eddy behind it, and all this snow in the ravine has drifted. It will keep on drifting, too--higher and higher."

"We'll find a way to pull through," said Hamp, confidently. "I don't believe the wind is going to change."

"It may sheer to the east," suggested Brick.

"That is just what I am afraid of," replied Jerry. "But we won't borrow trouble before it comes. We have enough on our hands now."

He pointed to the roof, which was sagging down considerably in the middle. There was evidently a heavy weight of snow on top.

"No way to remedy that," he added. "We can't get up there in such a deep snow. Let's make the best of it, fellows. I'm thankful that I feel well after my cold bath last night."

"If anything happens, those men may help us," suggested Hamp.

"Not likely," replied Jerry. "I'll bet anything they're worse off than we are. Probably they've got nothing to shelter them but a couple of rocks or a flimsy lean-to."

"Then I pity them," declared Brick. "But let's have something to eat, fellows. I'm ravenous."

His companions were equally hungry. All sat down on the straw, and for half a minute no one spoke or moved. An expression that was half serious, half comical, stole over each face.

Then Hamp opened a tin box and took out several dozen biscuit. He unrolled a napkin and disclosed about half a pound of chipped beef. He spread these things significantly in front of his companions. The act was enough to tell the tale.

"I thought so," exclaimed Brick, dismally. "We'll starve, sure. What fools we were to leave everything in the storehouse."

"What confounded fools," echoed Hamp. "But we couldn't have known what was going to happen."

The storehouse, it must be explained, was a triangular hollow between two rocks that stood in the center of the ravine, half-a-dozen yards below the cabin.

Here, snugly covered with one of the sleds, rested most of the provisions--tinned biscuit and meats, potatoes, flour, lard, coffee, pork, and various other articles.

This place had been selected because there was not sufficient room in the cabin.

"We can't keep alive long on this handful of crackers and beef,"

declared Jerry. "We've got to get at the supplies somehow or other.