OLD JIM DELIGHTED THE TWINS.OLD JIM DELIGHTED THE TWINS.
Though Flossie and Freddie had what they called “good times” in the log cabin at Cedar Camp, and though Old Jim played with them, making boats and dolls of wood, still the small Bobbsey twins wished for the time to come when they might go out of doors. They also began to wish for the return of Bert and Nan.
“Whenwillthey come, Mother?” Flossie asked over and over again.
“And bring us chestnuts!” teased Freddie.
“Oh, they’ll come soon now,” Mrs. Bobbsey said, as she looked out of the window at the flakes of snow, still falling, and listened to the whistle of the cold wind around the cabin.
And in her heart how very much Mrs. Bobbsey wished that Bert and Nan would come back soon! Mr. Bobbsey wished the same thing,and the only comfort the father and mother had in those worrisome days was the thought that their older twinsmusthave found shelter somewhere in the woods.
Old Jim declared that this was so, as, likewise, did Tom Case and Jim Denton. But it was still storming too much for another searching party to set out and look for Nan and Bert. Those who searched might themselves become lost in the blizzard. For that is what the storm now was—a regular blizzard.
Mr. Bobbsey could do nothing toward searching for the lost shipment of Christmas trees. The lumbermen could not work at cutting down trees, floating or sledding them to the mill or carting them to the railroad. Even the sawmill was shut down, and all there was to do was to wait.
Flossie and Freddie were not used to staying in the house so long at a time. They wanted to go out and play even if there was snow, but their mother would not let them in such an unusual storm.
“It’s like when we were at Snow Lodge,” sighed Flossie, as she stood with her little nosepressed flat against the window, thereby making her face cold.
“We could go out a little there,” sighed Freddie.
“I think you children are very lucky,” said their mother. “You have a warm place to stay. Think of poor Nan and Bert. They may——”
She stopped suddenly. She dared not think of what her older son and daughter might be suffering. She glanced quickly at Flossie and Freddie. She was afraid lest she should make them worry, too.
But, fortunately, Flossie and Freddie were not that sort. They did not believe in worrying, unless it was over not having fun enough. However, the log cabin was of good size, and with Old Jim to come over now and then to amuse them with cutting out wooden toys, the two Bobbsey twins did not have such a sad time as might be imagined.
To-day, however, when the storm had kept up so long, and when they had not had a chance to go out, they felt rather lonesome and as if they wanted to “do something.” So, presently, whenFlossie had grown tired of pressing her nose against the glass, making it cold, and then holding it on Freddie’s cheek to hear him exclaim in surprise, the little girl wandered about looking for something to do. Freddie joined her, and while their mother was in another room, talking to Mr. Bobbsey, and saying he ought, soon, to make another trip and search for Bert and Nan, Flossie and Freddie went up in the top story of the log cabin.
The log cabin was the largest in that part of the woods, and was higher than most, so that in addition to the bedrooms on the second floor, there was, above them, an open attic, reached by a short flight of steps, and in it were stored all sorts of odds and ends.
“Maybe we can find something here to play with,” suggested Flossie.
“Maybe,” agreed Freddie.
They rummaged around in the half-dark place, back in corners where the roof came down slanting and making little “cubby-holes,” and it was after a glance into one of these places that Flossie drew back and whispered to Freddie:
“There’s a bear in here!”
“A bear! Where?” and Freddie moved over closer to Flossie and looked where she pointed.
“There,” said the little girl, and, glancing along the line of her outstretched finger, Freddie saw a big, furry heap in a dark corner. “I touched it first with my foot,” said Flossie, “and it was soft, just like the bear I touched that the Italian had once, leading around by a string in his nose. And then I put out my hand and I felt his fur!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Freddie. “Did he—did he bite you?” He had been looking for something to play with on the other side of the attic, and, therefore, had not seen all that Flossie had.
“Course he didn’t bite me!” the little girl answered. “You didn’t hear me holler, did you?”
“No,” said Freddie, “I didn’t. I’m going to touch him!”
“Come over here,” advised Flossie, moving to one side so Freddie could thrust his hand forward and touch that mysterious heap offur. “I—I guess maybe he’s asleep, that’s why he didn’t growl or nothin’!”
“I guess maybe,” agreed Freddie. Neither of the Bobbsey twins felt surprised because they had an idea a bear might be in the attic with them. Nor were they afraid. A sleeping bear is not dangerous, of course. Any little boy or girl knows that!
Freddie crawled a little way farther under the sloping roof and, by stretching out his hand, managed to touch the fur. It felt warm and soft to his fingers.
“Oh, itisa bear!” he whispered, and he was delighted. “Let’s go and tell mother, and we can bring it downstairs and play with it. I guess it’s a little bear!”
“Yes, we’d better tell mother,” agreed Flossie. Somehow, the more she thought of a bear being up in the attic the more she thought it better to have some of the older folks know about it.
Down the stairs went the two Bobbsey twins, walking softly so as not to awaken the bear. They didn’t want him suddenly aroused from his sleep and made cross. Who would?
“Where have you children been?” cried Mrs. Bobbsey, as she saw the two twins. They were covered with dust and cobwebs from having crawled so far under the sloping roof in the attic. The floor was dirty, too, not having been swept in many months, and they had sat right down in the worst of the dust.
“Oh, Mother!” gasped Flossie, “we’ve been up in the attic, and what do you think’s up there? It’s a——”
“Bear!” burst out Freddie, not wanting his sister to tell all the wonderful news. “He’s asleep, an’ I touched him!”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey. “A bear? It can’t be!”
And yet she knew there were bears in the North Woods, and it might be possible that one had crawled into the cabin before they had come, and had gone to the attic to have his long winter sleep.
“Yes, it is a bear!” insisted Flossie, and both children were so certain about the heap of fur that Mrs. Bobbsey called her husband, who was out in the woodshed with Tom Case and Jim Bimby.
“A bear!” cried the mill foreman. “Well, there are some around these woods, but I never knew of one coming into a cabin. I’ll take a look.”
“Hadn’t you better take a gun?” asked Mr. Bobbsey, as he and Old Jim followed the foreman upstairs. “There’s one here.”
“Well, you might hand it to me,” said Mr. Case. “But I reckon if it is a bear that’s crawled in to go to sleep, he’ll be so lazy I can take him by the back of the neck and throw him out.”
Freddie and Flossie waited with their mother while their father and the two men went to the attic. They could hear the three moving around up overhead, and soon there was a shout of laughter.
“Maybe it’s a circus bear, and he’s doing tricks!” exclaimed Flossie.
“Oh, I hope it is!” added Freddie, feeling quite excited.
Their father and the two men came downstairs. Tom Case carried something—something brown and shaggy, just like the fur of some animal.
“There’s your ‘bear!’” he said, laughing, as he tossed the furry object over a chair. “A bear skin! Ha! Ha!”
And that is what it was. The skin of a big bear, made into a lap robe for use in cold weather. The fur was warm, thick and soft, and when the skin was huddled up in a heap in a corner no wonder the Bobbsey twins mistook it for a real bear, especially in the dark.
“That’s a good warm fur robe,” said Old Jim. “If it was made into a fur coat it would keep out the cold.”
“Maybe that’s what the man who used to live here was going to use it for,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “He moved away and forgot it. Well, you children can play with it,” he said to Flossie and Freddie. “It was a bear once.”
And the Bobbsey twins had fun taking turns wrapping the bear skin about them and pretending to be different kinds of wild animals.
It was when the storm began to grow less severe, the wind not blowing so hard and the snow not coming down so thickly, that Mr. Bobbsey, looking from the window when Flossie and Freddie were playing “bear,” said:
“I think I’ll start out again.”
“Where?” asked his wife.
“To find Bert and Nan,” he answered. “I think the blizzard is about over, and they will probably be starting for home. I’ll go to meet them.”
“Oh, take us!” cried Flossie and Freddie. “We want to see Bert and Nan.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t take you,” said their father. “The snow is piled deep in drifts, and you’d sink away down in—over your heads. I’ll take some of the men and start,” he said to his wife.
And so, a little later, another searching party started away from Cedar Camp to find the missing Bobbsey twins.
“I’ll go along,” said Old Jim, who was now able to travel. “I must take some food to my wife. She’ll be ’most starved.”
“Yes, come with us,” said Mr. Bobbsey. “We’ll take some food to Mrs. Bimby.”
Flossie and Freddie Bobbsey were two of the kindest children in the world. They were fond of fun and of having a good time, but whenever their mother did work for the church at home, helping poor families, taking food to people who had but little, Freddie and Flossie always wanted to do their share. So did Bert and Nan; but as the older twins had to spend more time in school than did Flossie and Freddie, the two latter had more chances to help their mother.
More than once they had gone with her when she carried a basket of food or a bundle of clothing to some poor family in Lakeport. And now, in Cedar Camp, having heard their father say he was going to take food to Mrs. Bimby, Flossie and Freddie at once had an idea.
While Mr. and Mrs. Bobbsey were out of the room, talking over the coming trip through the woods to look for Bert and Nan, as well as to take food to Mrs. Bimby, Freddie said to Flossie:
“Let’s go, too!”
“Daddy won’t let us,” Flossie answered.
“We—we’ll tag after him,” said Freddie in a whisper. “We can put on our rubber boots and our coats and mittens, and we can go behind him. He can’t hear us, ’cause there’s so much snow our boots won’t make any noise.”
“That’s so,” agreed Flossie. “And, oh, Freddie! I know what we can do.”
“What?”
“We can take Mrs. Bimby that bear robe. It’ll keep her warm, ’cause it’s so nice and soft!”
“So ’tis!” agreed Freddie. “We’ll take it, and something to eat, too.”
“We’ll not have to do that, Daddy and the other men are going to take her something to eat.”
“I meant something to eat for us,” Freddie said. “We ought to take a lunch with us,’cause maybe we’ll get hungry in the woods.”
The younger Bobbsey twins had a feeling that if they were seen packing up a lunch for themselves, putting on their boots and outdoor garments, and taking the bear skin, they would be stopped. They felt sure they would not be allowed to go in search of Nan and Bert. And they were probably right.
So, as they had done more than once before, they said nothing of their plans, but went about them secretly and quietly. While their mother and Mrs. Baxter were packing two large baskets with food for Old Jim’s wife, and while Daddy Bobbsey was talking to the men about the coming trip through the snow-filled woods, Flossie and Freddie took their boots, coats, caps and mittens to the back door of the log cabin.
“We can slip out and put ’em on there when nobody is looking,” said Freddie.
“We’ve got to take the bear skin out, too,” Flossie remarked.
But when they tried to bundle the skin of the bear up so they could carry it, they foundit so heavy and slippery to lift that they had to give it up.
“What’ll we do?” asked Flossie, as, after several trials she had to admit that the skin could not be carried. “Mrs. Bimby’ll be so disappointed!”
“We can tell her it’s here, and Mr. Jim can come and get it,” suggested Freddie.
“Oh, that’ll be nice!” his sister agreed. “We’ll leave the skin.”
How to pack up a lunch for themselves was also a hard matter. But, as it happened, Mrs. Bobbsey was so busy getting things ready for her husband and the other men that she did not pay much attention to what Flossie and Freddie did. She saw them moving about, now in the pantry and now in the kitchen and again stepping to the back door, but she did not dream they were getting ready to set off on a search by themselves.
However, this is just what Flossie and Freddie were going to do, and, after a while, they managed to pack into a pasteboard box what they thought would be lunch enough for them until they came back with Bert and Nan.
“Put in lots of cake,” whispered Freddie to Flossie, on one of the little girl’s trips to the pantry. “Cake tastes awful good in the woods.”
“I will,” Flossie whispered back. “And I got some pie, too!”
“Oh, that’s fine!” Freddie exclaimed. “Now we must slip out when they don’t see us.”
This the small Bobbsey twins managed to do. While Mr. Bobbsey, with Old Jim and Tom Case, was making ready to start on his searching expedition, to find and bring back Bert and Nan, as well as to take food to lonely Mrs. Bimby, Flossie and Freddie slipped quietly to the back door with their queer package of lunch.
They soon donned their boots, coats and caps, and with their little hands covered with warm, red mittens, they started off, keeping behind the cabin so they would not be seen by those in front who were getting ready to start on the main searching trip. It was snowing a little, but not nearly so hard as at first, and the wind was not so strong or cold.
“It’ll be fun!” said Flossie to Freddie.
“Lots of fun!” agreed her twin. “We’ll wait until daddy and Mr. Jim and Mr. Case get in the woods, and then we’ll follow ’em. They won’t send us back!”
“No,” agreed Flossie, “I don’t guess they will.”
The plan of the little Bobbsey twins was to follow their father on the search. They did not want to go through the woods alone, even though it was now daylight, though the sun did not shine because of the snow clouds.
And so, a little while after Mr. Bobbsey and the two men started away from the log cabin, Flossie and Freddie set out on their own little searching party. Mrs. Bobbsey and Mrs. Baxter were so busy “cleaning up” after the men left that they gave no thought to the children for a time.
“There they go!” whispered Flossie to Freddie, as, hiding behind a woodpile, they saw their father, Mr. Bimby and Tom Case start off.
“Wait a little, and then we’ll go after ’em,” advised Freddie.
As soon as the main party had marched offalong the trail that led through the woods toward the chestnut grove that Bert and Nan had set out to visit two days before, the small Bobbsey twins set forth. They went around behind a clump of trees so they would not be seen from the cabin.
Flossie and Freddie expected soon to catch up to their father, but the snow was so deep and the men traveled so fast that, after trudging along for half an hour, Freddie and his sister had not yet come within sight of the others.
“Do you s’pose they ran away from us?” asked Flossie, as she stopped a moment to rest.
“Course not,” answered Freddie. “They don’t even know we’re comin’ after ’em.”
“That’s so,” Flossie said. “Well, anyhow, I hope we don’t get lost.”
“I do, too,” agreed Freddie. “But we have something to eat, anyhow,” and he patted the box of lunch he carried.
The children looked around them. They were in a lonely part of the woods, a place they had never been before, but they felt sure they would soon catch up to their father. Theyhad been following the tracks in the snow left by the men who had gone to find Bert and Nan and take food to Mrs. Bimby.
Suddenly, however, there came a harder flurry of snow, and for a time Flossie and Freddie could not see very well. And when the little squall, as sudden storms are called, had passed, the two Bobbsey twins found they had wandered off to one side of the trail.
No longer could they see the footprints of their father and the others in the snow. They had nothing to guide them!
“Freddie! Look!” cried Flossie, “Where’s the path?” She called her father’s snow-track a “path.”
“Why, it—it’s gone!” Freddie had to admit.
And then, as the two little children stood in the lonely snow-filled woods, they heard, near a bush, a noise that made them suddenly afraid.
It was a growl that they heard!
Bert Bobbsey started off bravely enough from the cabin of Mrs. Bimby to go for help for the old woman, so that food might be taken to her bare cupboard.
“And I’ll have daddy bring a sled or something so Nan can ride home to camp on it,” thought Bert, as he trudged along through the snow. “It’s hard walking. I wish I had a pair of snowshoes.”
He had started away from the lonely cabin, as I told you two chapters back. With him he took a little package of lunch, not very much, for he felt sure he would soon reach Cedar Camp by following the line of the brook, nor was there much to be got from Mrs. Bimby’s bare cupboard. Even though much snow had fallen, Bert hoped the bed of the brookcould be made out once he came to it. It lay some distance from the cabin, he thought.
The Bobbsey twin boy turned, after trudging a little way from the cabin, and waved his hand at Mrs. Bimby and Nan, who stood near a window watching him.
“Your brother is a brave little chap,” said Mrs. Bimby. “I do hope he finds help and brings it back to us.”
“I hope so, too; ’specially something for you to eat,” said Nan.
“Oh, well, we’ve a little of the rabbit left yet,” said the old woman. “But my tea is ’most gone, and I need it strong on account of my nerves. If it wasn’t for my rheumatiz I’d put on my things and go with Bert. I’d take you along, though I fear it’s going to snow more.”
“I hope it doesn’t before Bert gets back to camp,” Nan said. “I shouldn’t want him lost all alone.”
“Nor I, dearie,” crooned Mrs. Bimby. “But he’s a brave lad, and I trust he gets along all right. Though it has been a bad storm—a bad storm!” she muttered.
She put more wood on the fire, for, thoughthe wind had gone down a little and the snow was not falling so rapidly, it was still cold. But the blazing wood threw out a grateful heat, and Nan and Mrs. Bimby sat about the stove, waiting for the help Bert was to send.
Bert felt a little lonely as he plunged into the woods and lost sight of the cabin. Though it was daylight, and the woods were not dark because of the white snow, still Bert felt a little lonesome. He wished Nan had come with him.
“But I guess a girl couldn’t get along,” he said to himself, as he plunged through drift after drift. Indeed it was hard work for Bert, sturdy as he was, to wade along, especially as he had on no boots, not having expected a storm when he and Nan started after chestnuts.
“Now let me see,” said Bert Bobbsey, talking to himself half aloud, to make his trip seem less lonesome. “The first thing I want to do is to find the brook. I can follow that back to camp, I’m pretty sure. But it’s a good way from here, I guess.”
He remembered having seen the brook justbefore he and Nan reached the first chestnut grove, where they found the squirrels and chipmunks had taken most of the supply, making the children go farther on. And then the Bobbsey twins had rather lost sight of the stream of water.
Bert knew it might be almost hidden from sight under overhanging banks of snow, but he knew if he could come upon the water course it would be the surest thing to follow to get back to camp. So as he trudged along, into and out of drifts, he looked eagerly about for a sign of the brook, which, as it went on, widened and ran into the mill pond near Cedar Camp.
Bert was all by himself in the snowy woods. The cabin, where his sister and Mrs. Bimby waited for him to bring help, was lost to sight amid the trees. For the first time since leaving Cedar Camp Bert began to feel lonesome and afraid.
It was so still and quiet in the woods! Not a sound! No birds fluttered through the trees or called aloud. The birds that had not flown south were, doubtless, keeping under shelteruntil they dared venture out to look for food, which some of them would never find.
“There isn’t even a crow!” said Bert aloud, and his voice, in that white stillness, almost startled him by its loudness.
He reached the top of a little hill, where there was not quite so much snow, the wind having blown it off, and there Bert stopped for a moment, looking about. It was a lonesome and dreary scene that lay before him. Not a house in sight, only a stretch of snow and trees, and the wind howled mournfully through the bare, leafless branches.
“Well, there’s no use standing here,” murmured Bert to himself. “I’ve got to travel on and bring help to Nan and the old lady. I’m glad Nan has some shelter, anyhow. And I s’pose mother will be worrying about us. But we couldn’t help it. Nobody would guess a storm would come up so quickly.”
Throwing back his shoulders as he had seen men do when they had some hard task before them, Bert started off again. Through the snow he trudged, tossing the white flakes aside with his small but sturdy legs.
All at once, on the white expanse in front of him, Bert saw a movement. At first he thought it was just some loose snow, blown about by the wind, which came in fitful gusts. But as he looked a second time he saw that it was not the wind.
“It’s some animal!” exclaimed the boy, speaking aloud, for he wanted company, and, like the men of the desert or wilderness, he fell naturally into the habit of talking to himself. “It’s some animal.”
Having said this Bert came to a stop, for he knew there might be many sorts of animals in the woods.
“I wonder what it is,” he whispered. Somehow or other a whisper seemed more the sort of voice to use in that lonesome place.
A moment later he saw a patch of brown, and then two big ears appeared to be thrust out of a hole in the snow.
“It’s a rabbit—a bunny!” cried Bert, and he did not whisper this time.
As he shouted Bert sprang forward through the snow and toward the brown rabbit that had so unexpectedly appeared. Whether it was theboy’s shout or his quick movement, or both, was not certain, but the rabbit was frightened and dashed away over the snow, sometimes sinking down almost out of sight, and again, by some means, keeping on the surface of the snow, which was packed harder in some places than in others.
“If I can only get you!” gasped Bert, for his speed through the snow was making him pant and his breath come short. “I’ll get you and take you back to Nan and Mrs. Bimby! They won’t have enough to eat unless I do, maybe, for it may take me a long while to get back to camp.”
Bert had no weapon—he could not even pick up a stone, for they were all covered from sight by the mass of white. But the boy had an idea that he could catch the rabbit alive.
Bert was not a cruel boy, and under other circumstances he never would have dreamed of trying to hurt or catch a bunny. But now he felt that the lives of his sister and Mrs. Bimby might depend on this game.
“I’ll get you! I’ll run you down!” muttered Bert.
Now a rabbit is a very fast-moving animal. Out West there is a kind called jackrabbits, and they can go faster than the average dog. Only a greyhound or other long-legged dog can beat a jackrabbit running. But though this bunny was not a jackrabbit, being the common wild rabbit of the woods and fields, still it could go faster than could Bert—and in the snow at that.
Every now and again Bert would get so near the bunny that he felt sure that the next moment he would be able to get hold of the long ears. But every time the rabbit would give a desperate jump and get beyond the boy’s reach.
“Whew!” exclaimed Bert, as he was forced to stop, because his legs were so tired and because his breath was so short. “I don’t wonder hunters have to use guns! They never could get much game just by chasing after it. It wouldn’t be any use to set a trap, for I haven’t time and I haven’t anything to bait it with. Besides, I guess you’re so smart you’d never be caught in it.”
As Bert came to a stop on top of another little hill where the snow was partly blownaway, the rabbit also halted. It looked back at the boy. Probably the bunny was as tired as was Bert.
“If I only had something to throw at you!” murmured the boy. “I can’t find any stones, but I can take a stick.”
There were trees near at hand, and from the low branches of one of these Bert broke off a number of pieces of dead wood. They cracked like pistol shots, and, turning around to look at the rabbit, Bert saw it scooting away over the snow. Probably the little furry creature thought some hunter was shooting at it.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to give up,” said the boy, half aloud. “I’ll only get lost chasing after you. As it is, I guess I’ve come ’most a mile out of my way.”
He threw the sticks he had broken off, but he did not come anywhere near hitting the brown bunny.
“Oh, well, you’re safe! I won’t chase you any farther,” said Bert. “And I wouldn’t have chased you now, and scared you ’most to death, if the folks back in the shack weren’t so lowon food. Maybe I can find something else.”
Bert floundered about in the snow, following his tracks back before they should be filled and so hidden from sight. He was about half way to the place where he had surprised the rabbit when he heard a chattering in a tree over his head.
“A squirrel!” exclaimed the boy. “And a grey one, too, or I miss my guess.”
He kept very still, listening. Again, above the noise of the storm was heard the sharp, squealing chatter of a squirrel, and, looking up over his head, Bert saw the animal. It was a large, grey squirrel, with a tail almost as big as its whole body.
The squirrel sat up on a limb and looked down at the boy. It may have been angry or frightened, and it seemed to be scolding Bert as it chattered at him. Grey squirrels are not such excited scolders as the little red chaps are, but this one did very well.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go back into your nest and stay there,” Bert said. “I can’t get you, and you ought to know it, for I haven’t a gun and I never could throwup a stick and knock you down. You’d be good eating if I could,” Bert went on, for he had often heard his father tell of broiled squirrels.
Bert could see a hole in the tree half way up the trunk, and he guessed that here the squirrel had his winter nest. It would be well lined with dried leaves, soft grass, and perhaps some cotton from the milkweed pods. Thus the squirrels keep warm, wrapping their big bushy tails about them.
“Well, I guess I’ll say good-bye to you,” went on Bert, as he turned aside from the squirrel in the tree and resumed his trudging through the snow. The weather was cold, and Bert was cold likewise. Also he was tired. His legs ached and his shoulders pained him, for walking through the snow is not easy work, as you who have tried it know.
However, he knew that he must keep bravely on, and so, after turning once or twice, making sure he could not see the cabin, he went along faster.
It was because of his speed that an accident happened to Bert which might have been a veryserious one. He was traveling with his head held down, to keep the falling snow out of his face, when he suddenly felt himself falling.
Down, down he went, as though he had stepped into some big hole, or off some high cliff. He gave a cry of alarm, and threw out both hands to grasp something to save himself, but there was nothing to grasp. Down, down went poor Bert!
It was a good thing there was so much snow on the ground. The piles and drifts of white flakes were like so many heaps of feathers, and Bert was thankful when at last, after sliding, slipping, falling and tumbling, he came to a stop, half buried in a deep drift. He was somewhat shaken up, and he had dropped his package of lunch, but at first he did not think he was much hurt until he tried to move his left leg.
Then such a pain shot through the boy that he had to cry aloud. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the pile of snow into which he had fallen. The first flash of pain passed, and he began to feel a little better. But a terrible thought came to him.
“What if my leg is broken?” said Bert, half aloud. “I can’t walk, I can’t go for help, and I’ll have to stay here. Daddy or nobody will know where to find me—not even Nan or Mrs. Bimby! Oh, this is terrible!”
But he knew he must be brave, for he had to help not only himself but his sister and the old woman in the cabin. Clenching his teeth to keep back the cry of pain which he felt would come when he moved his leg again, Bert shifted it a little to one side. The spasm of pain came, but not so bad as at first.
“Maybe it’s only broken a little,” thought the boy. “And I can crawl, if I can’t walk.” He had read of hunters and trappers who, with a broken or badly cut leg, had crawled miles over the snow to get help. Bert wanted to be as brave as these heroes.
But when he moved his leg for the third time and found the pain not quite so bad, he began to take heart. He brushed away the snow from both legs and looked at them. They appeared to be all right, but the left one felt a little queer. And it was not until he had managed to pull himself up, by means of astunted bush showing through the snow, that Bert knew his leg was not broken.
It was strained a little, and it hurt some when he bore his weight on it, but he found that he could at least walk, if he could not run, and he was thankful for this. He looked up toward the place from where he had fallen, and saw that, without knowing it, he had stepped over the edge of a steep hill. The snow had hidden the edge from Bert, and he had plunged right over it.
“Where’s my lunch?” he asked aloud, and then he saw the package, which had fallen to one side of the place where he had plunged into the drift. Bert picked it up, and then, thankful that his accident was no worse, he went on again.
“I guess maybe the brook is here,” he said, for he noticed that he was down in a valley, and he knew that water always sought low levels. “I’ll walk along here,” said Bert.
He was so frightened, thinking of what might have happened if he had been crippled and unable to walk, that he did not feel hungry, though it was some time since breakfast. Onhe trudged through the snow, looking for signs of the brook, which he hoped would lead him to Cedar Camp.
It was while he was passing through a clump of woods that Bert received another fright—one that caused him to run on as fast as he could, in spite of his aching leg.
He had gone half way through the clump of trees, and he was wondering if he would ever come to the brook, when suddenly he heard a noise in a clump of bushes. The noise sounded louder than usual, because it was all so still and quiet near him.
Before Bert could guess what caused the sound, he saw, pushing its way through the underbrush, a tawny animal, with black spots underneath and with little tufts of hair on its ears. At once Bert knew what this was—a wildcat, or lynx!
For a moment Bert was so frightened that he just stood still, looking at the wildcat. And then, as the animal gave a sort of snarl and growl, the boy turned with a yell of fright and ran off through the snow as fast as he could go!
About the time that Bert Bobbsey was running through the snow, to get away from the wildcat, Flossie and Freddie were having a scare of their own, some miles distant from him, though in the same woods around Cedar Camp.
The two smaller Bobbsey twins had gone off without letting their father or mother know, taking with them a lunch. They tramped through the forest until they came to a lonely place and had not yet caught sight of their father, who had started off ahead with Old Jim Bimby and Tom Case. Right here the small twins heard a growl and saw a movement in the bushes.
“What’s that?” asked Flossie, shrinking closer to Freddie.
“I—I don’t know,” Freddie answered, trying to think of something to make him brave. “Maybe it’s a bear!”
“A bear?” questioned his sister.
“Yep!” Freddie went on, his eyes never moving from the bush that seemed to hide some animal. “Maybe it’s a bear like the one we found the skin of in the attic.”
“It—it can’t be thesame onecoming back for his skin, can it?” asked Flossie.
“Course not!” declared Freddie. “How could a bear go ’round without his skin on?”
“Well, a bear’s skin is just the same to him as our clothes are to us,” Flossie went on. “An’ sometimes, when we go swimming, we don’t have very many clothes on.”
“Well, a bear is different,” said Freddie.
“Oh, look!” suddenly cried the little girl, and, pointing to the bush with one hand, she clung to Freddie’s arm with the other. “He’s coming out! He’s coming out!” she exclaimed.
A shaggy head could be seen thrusting itself from the bushes, and the children were wondering what sort of animal it could be, for it did not look like a bear, when, with a joyfulbark, there burst out in front of them—the shaggy dog belonging to Tom Case!
Rover—Rover was the name of the dog—rushed toward Flossie and Freddie, leaping joyfully and wagging his tail. He had made friends with the children as soon as they came to Cedar Camp, and they loved Rover.
“Oh, hello!” cried Flossie, as if greeting an old friend.
“He’s glad to see us and we’re glad to see him,” said Freddie.
This seemed to be true, though I think Flossie and Freddie were more pleased to see Rover than he was to see them, for the dog knew how to find his way home, and even trace and find his master if need be, while, to tell you the truth, Flossie and Freddie were lost, though they did not yet know it. But they were soon to find this out.
“Did you come looking for us?” asked Flossie, as she patted the shaggy animal.
“I guess he did,” Freddie said. “I guess he’d rather come with us than with daddy and the others. Though we’ll take Rover to ’em, won’t we?”
“Yes,” agreed Flossie. “But we must hurry up and catch ’em, Freddie. We want to see Mrs. Bimby and tell her about the nice warm bear robe.”
“Sush! Don’t speak so loud,” cautioned Freddie, looking over his shoulder.
“Why not?” Flossie wanted to know.
“I mean about the bear robe,” her brother went on. “There might be some bears in the woods, and if they heard there was the skin of one of ’em at the cabin, maybe they wouldn’t like it.”
“Maybe that’s so,” agreed Flossie, also looking around. “But, anyhow, Rover’d drive the bears away; wouldn’t you, Rover?”
The dog barked and wagged his tail, which was the only answer he could give. It satisfied the children, and soon they started off again, making their way through the snow, hoping they would soon catch up with their father, Mr. Case and Mr. Bimby. Rover accompanied Flossie and Freddie, sometimes ahead of them and sometimes behind.
The dog had started out, as he often did, to follow his master, but had lagged behind,perhaps to run after a rabbit or squirrel. Then he had come across the tracks of the children and had gone to them, knowing they were friends of his.
“I’m hungry,” said Flossie, after a while. “Let’s sit under a Christmas tree and eat, Freddie.”
“All right,” agreed her brother, always willing to do this.
They were, just then, in a clump of evergreen trees, and under some the snow was not as deep as it was in the open. In fact the children found one tree with no snow under it at all, so thick were the branches, and so close to the ground did they come. Crawling into this little nest, where the ground was covered with the dry needles from the pines and other trees, Flossie and Freddie opened the packages of lunch they had brought with them.
Rover, smelling the food, crawled into the shelter after them, and Flossie and Freddie shared their lunch with the dog, who even ate the crumbs off the ground.
“But we mustn’t eat everything,” said Freddie, whenpart of the lunch had been disposed of, Rover getting his share.
“Why not?” asked Flossie. “Can’t you eat all you want to when you’re hungry?”
“It’s best to save some,” Freddie answered. “Maybe we’ll get stuck in the snow and can’t get anything more to eat for a while, and then we’ll be glad to have this.”
“That’s so,” agreed Flossie, after thinking it over. “I guess I’m not so very hungry. But Rover is. He’s terrible hungry, Freddie. See him look at the lunch.”
Indeed the dog seemed to be following, with hungry eyes, every motion of the little boy who was wrapping up again that part of the lunch not eaten by him and his sister. They saved about half of it.
Rover sniffed and snuffed as only a dog can, but he made no effort to take the lunch that Freddie placed in a crotch of the evergreen tree which made such a nice shelter for him and his sister.
“Don’t you take it, Rover!” cautioned Flossie, shaking her finger at him.
Rover thumped his tail on the ground, perhaps to showthat he would be good and mind.
“It’s nice and warm in here,” Freddie remarked, after a while. “I wish we could stay here longer, Flossie.”
“Can’t we?”
“Not if we want to go to Mrs. Bimby’s,” Freddie answered. “We have to get out and walk some more. And it’s snowing again, too.”
Whether it was or not, the children could not be quite certain, for the wind was blowing, and if the flakes were not falling from the sky they were blowing up off the ground.
It was almost the same, anyhow, for there was a fine shower of the cold, white flakes in the air, and it was much more cosy and warm under the tree than out in the open.
“Let’s stay here a little longer,” begged Flossie. “Rover likes it here, don’t you?” she asked, as she reached out her hand and patted the shaggy back of the dog.
And from the manner in which Rover thumped his tail on the ground you could tell that he did, indeed, like to be with the little Bobbsey twins under the shelter of the tree.
“I know what we can do,” said Freddie,after thinking a moment. “I know what we can do to have some fun!”
“What?” asked Flossie, always ready for anything of this sort.
“We’ll throw a lot of these pine cones outside, and Rover will chase after ’em and bring ’em back,” went on Freddie. “He likes to run out in the snow. And after we play that awhile maybe it will be nicer outside.”
“All right,” agreed Flossie. “We’ll throw pine cones.”
There were many of these on the pine-needle covered ground beneath the sheltering tree. The cones were really the clusters of seeds from the tree, and they had become hard and dry so they made excellent things to throw for a dog to bring back.
Rover liked to race after sticks when thrown by the children, and the pine cones were ever so much better than sticks. There were so many of them, too.
“I’ll throw first, and then it will be your turn, Flossie,” Freddie said. “Here, Rover!” he called to the dog, as he picked up several of the cones.
Always ready for a lark of this sort, Rover leaped to his feet and stood at “attention.” Freddie bent aside some of the branches and tossed a pine cone out of the opening.
It fell in a bank of snow some distance away, for Freddie was a good thrower for a little boy. And the pine cone, being light, did not sink down in the snow as a stone would have done.
“Bow-wow!” barked Rover, as he dashed out after the pine cone.
That was his way of saying he would bring it back as quickly as he could. And as Rover rushed from under the little green tent of the pine tree Flossie gave a cry of surprise.
“What’s the matter?” asked Freddie, turning around to look at his sister.
“Rover knocked me down!” she answered with a laugh, and, surely enough, there she was sprawling on the brown pine needles which covered the ground under the tree. “He just bunked into me and knocked me over!”
Rover was not used to playing with children, you see, and he was a bit rough. But he didn’t mean to be.
Flossie sat up, still laughing, for she was not in the least hurt, and by this time Rover had brought back the pine cone that Freddie had tossed out.
“Good dog, Rover!” cried Freddie, patting the animal as he laid down the cone and wagged his tail. “Now it’s your turn to throw one, Flossie,” Freddie said.
“All right,” Flossie answered. “But look out he doesn’t knock you down, Freddie.”
“I’m looking out!” Freddie said, and he quickly moved over to one side of the space under the tree, while Flossie threw out her cone.
Flossie was not quite so good a thrower of sticks, stones, or pine cones as was her brother. But she did pretty well. Though her cone did not go as far as Freddie’s had, it sank farther down into the snow. Maybe the cone was a heavier one, or it may have fallen in a softer place in the snow. Anyhow it went quite deep into a drift and Rover had to dig with his forepaws to get it so he could take it in his mouth.
“Oh, look at him!” cried Flossie, as the dog, digging away, made the snow fly in ashower back of him. “He’s like a snowplow on the railroad!”
Once, in a big storm, Flossie and Freddie had seen the railroad snowplow, pushed by two locomotives, cut through a high drift. And the way Rover scattered the snow made the little girl think of the plow.
“Bring it here, Rover!” cried Freddie, for it would be his turn next to throw a cone.
“Bow-wow!” barked the dog, and then, with a final dive into the drift, he got the brown cone in his mouth and came racing back with it. Covered with snow as he was, he crawled under the shelter to be petted and talked kindly to by Freddie and Flossie.
Then, just as he probably did when he came out of the water in the summer time, Rover gave himself a shake, to get rid of the snowflakes.
“Oh! Oh!” laughed Flossie, holding her hands over her face. “Stop it, Rover! You’re getting me all snow!”
But Rover kept it up until he had got off all the snow, and then he raced out again after more cones as the children threw them.
If Bert Bobbsey could have known where his little sister and brother were, with brave old Rover beside them, I am sure he would have wished to join them. For Bert, about this time, was running away from the wildcat that had suddenly burst through the bushes.
“You’re not going to get me!” said Bert to himself, as he clutched his package of lunch and raced on as well as he could.
The pain in his leg bothered him, but he was not going to stop for a thing like that and let a wildcat maul him. On he ran through the snow, taking the easiest path he could find. He looked back over his shoulder once or twice, to find the wildcat bounding lightly along after him.
And after he had looked back and had seen the size of the animal and noticed that there was only one, somehow or other Bert became braver, and he had an idea that perhaps he might drive this beast away.
Wildcats, or bobcats as they are sometimes called, being also known as the bay lynx, are not as large as a good-sized dog. They weigh about thirty pounds, and though they havesharp teeth and claws they very seldom attack persons. Only when they are disturbed, or fear that someone is going to harm their little ones or take away their food, do bobcats run after persons.
And this one must have thought Bert was going to do it some harm, for the animal certainly chased the lad.
“Ho!” said Bert to himself, as he looked back, “you’re not so big! Maybe you have got sharp teeth and claws, but if you don’t get near me you can’t hurt me! I’m going to make you go back!”
Bert had a sudden idea of how he might do this—with snowball bullets. All about him was snow—piles of it—and Bert had often taken part in snowball fights at home. He was a good thrower, and once he had snowballed a savage dog that had run at Flossie and Freddie and had caused the animal to run yelping away.
“I’m going to snowball this wildcat!” decided Bert.
He ran on a little farther until he came to a small clearing where the trees stood in an irregular ring around an open place. ThereBert decided to make a stand and see if he could not drive the chasing wildcat away.
“And if he won’t go, and comes after me,” thought Bert, “I can climb a tree.”
He did not know, or else had forgotten, that wildcats themselves are very good tree-climbers.
Reaching the other side of the clearing, Bert laid his package of lunch down on a firm place in the snow, and then rapidly began to make some hard, round balls. He packed them with all his might between his mittened hands, for he knew a soft snowball would not be of much use against a wildcat.
He had been some distance ahead of the animal, and when it ran up to the edge of the clearing Bert had several snowballs ready.
“Come on now! See how you like that!” cried the boy. He threw one snowball “bullet,” but he was so excited that it went high over the head of the bobcat. The next one struck in the snow at the feet of the animal. But the third one hit it right on the nose!
“Good shot!” cried Bert.
The wildcat uttered a snarl and a growl, andstopped for a moment. Perhaps it had never before chased anyone who threw snowballs.
“Have another!” cried Bert, and the next white bullet struck it on the side. The bobcat leaped up in the air, and then Bert threw another ball which hit it on the head.
This was too much for the creature. With a loud howl it turned and ran back into the woods, and Bert breathed easier.
“Well, I guess as long as I can throw snowballs you won’t get me,” he said to himself, as he picked up the package of lunch and hurried on.
Bert Bobbsey felt very proud of himself after he had driven away the wildcat with snowballs. And I think he had a right to be proud. Not many boys of his age would have dared to stand and await the oncoming of a beast that is quite dangerous once it starts to claw and bite. But Bert had spent so much time in the woods and out in the open that he was very self-reliant.
And so, after looking back once or twice as he left the clearing, and finding that the bobcat did not follow, Bert began to feel much better.
“I’ll soon be at Cedar Camp,” he said to himself, “and then I’ll be all right. I’ll send ’em back to get Nan and take something to eat to Mrs. Bimby. I’ll be glad to see Flossie and Freddie again.”
Had Bert only known it, Flossie and Freddiewere nearer to him than if they had been in Cedar Camp, though the small Bobbsey twins were still some distance from their brother.
And while Mr. Bobbsey was forging ahead through the snow with Old Jim Bimby and Tom Case, knowing nothing, of course, about his little boy and girl having followed him, Mrs. Bobbsey was having worries of her own about the absence of the small children from the cabin.
She and Mrs. Baxter had missed Flossie and Freddie soon after the men had started on the searching trip, but, for a time, the mother of the two small twins was not at all worried. She thought Flossie and Freddie had merely run out to play a little, as it was the first chance they had had since the big storm began.
But when, after a while, they had not come back to the cabin, and she could see nothing of them, Mrs. Bobbsey said:
“Mrs. Baxter, have you seen Flossie and Freddie?”
“No, Mrs. Bobbsey, I haven’t,” answered the cook. “But it looks as if they had been in the pantry, for things there are all upset.”
Mrs. Bobbsey looked around the kitchen and pantry, and she at once guessed part of what had happened.
“They’ve packed up lunch for themselves,” she said to the housekeeper, “and they’ve gone out to play. Well, they’ll be all right as long as they stay around here and it doesn’t storm again. I’ll go and look for them in a few minutes.”
But when she did look and call Flossie and Freddie, they were not to be found. Indeed, they were more than a mile away by this time, and they had just met Rover, as I have told you.
“I’m glad Rover’s with us, aren’t you, Freddie?” asked Flossie, as they made ready to set off again, after having eaten their lunch.
“Lots glad,” answered the little boy. “Mrs. Bimby will be glad to see him, I guess.”
Indeed Mrs. Bimby, left alone with Nan after Bert had gone out, would have been glad to see almost anyone. For she was worried because her husband was away and because there was so little left in the house to eat, only she did not want to tell Nan so. And she didnot think she could shoot another rabbit, as Bert had done.
“I do hope that boy will find my Jim or someone and bring help,” thought Mrs. Bimby.
And of course Mr. Bobbsey with Old Jim and Tom Case were on their way to the cabin, but they had to go slowly on account of so much snow.
The snow was worse for Flossie and Freddie than for any of the others in the woods, because the legs of the small twins were so short. It was hard work for them to wade through the drifts. But they felt a little better after their rest under the “Christmas tree,” as Flossie called it, and after they had eaten some of their lunch. So on they trudged again.
“Maybe we can find daddy’s lost Christmas trees,” suggested Freddie, after a while.
“Wouldn’t he be glad if we did?” cried Flossie. “Here, Rover! Come back!” she called, for the dog was running too far ahead to please her and Freddie.
The dog came racing back, scattering the snow about as he plunged through it, and Flossie patted his shaggy head.
“Don’t you think we’ll find daddy pretty soon?” asked Flossie, after she and Freddie had trudged on for perhaps half an hour longer. “I’m getting tired in my legs.”
“So’m I,” her brother admitted. “I wish we could find ’em. But if we don’t, pretty soon, we’ll go back, ’cause I think it’s going to snow some more.”
Indeed, the sky seemed to be getting darker behind the veil of snow clouds that hung over it, and some swirling flakes of white began sifting down.
Freddie came to a stop and looked about him. He was tired, and so was Flossie. The only one of the party who seemed to enjoy racing about in the drifts was Rover. He never appeared to get tired.
“I guess maybe we’d better go back,” said Freddie, after thinking it over. “We haven’t much left to eat, and I guess daddy can tell Mrs. Bimby about the bear skin to keep her warm.”
“I guess so,” agreed Flossie. “It’s going to be night pretty soon.”
It would be some hours until night, however,and the darkness was caused by gathering storm clouds, but Flossie and Freddie did not know that. They turned about, and began to go back along the way they had come. At least they thought they were doing that, but they had not gone far before Flossie said:
“Freddie, we’ve come the wrong way.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
“’Cause we aren’t stepping in our own tracks like we would be if we went back straight.”
Freddie looked at the snow. It was true. There was no sign of the tracks they must have made in walking along. Before this they had known which way they were going. Now they didn’t.
“We—we’re lost!” faltered Flossie.
“Oh, maybe not,” said Freddie as cheerfully as he could. But still, when he realized that they had not walked along their back track, he knew they must be going farther into the woods, or at least away from Cedar Camp.
“Oh, I don’t like to be lost!” wailed Flossie. “I want to go home!”
Freddie did too, but he hoped he wouldn’tcry about it. Boys must be brave and not cry, he thought.
But as the little Bobbsey twins stood there, not knowing what to do, it suddenly became colder, the wind sprang up, and down came a blinding storm of snow, so thick that they could not see Rover, who, a moment before, had been tumbling about in the drifts near them.
“Oh! Oh!” cried Flossie. “Let’s go home, Freddie!”
But where was “home” or camp? How were they to get there?
And so, soon after Bert had driven off the wildcat and had run on, this Bobbsey lad, too, was caught in the same snow storm that had frightened Flossie and Freddie. But of course Bert did not know that.
“Say, we’ve had enough snow for a winter and a half already,” thought Bert, as he saw more white flakes coming down. “And it isn’t Christmas yet! I hope I’m not going to be snowed in out here all alone! I’d better hurry!”
As Bert trudged along through the storm he found himself becoming thirsty. If youhave ever walked a long distance, even in a snowstorm, you may have felt the same way yourself. And perhaps you have tried to quench your thirst and cool your mouth by eating snow. If you have, you doubtless remember that instead of getting less thirsty you were only made more so. This is what always happens when a person eats snow. Ice is different, if you hold pieces of it in your mouth until it melts.
“My! I wish I had a drink,” exclaimed Bert, speaking aloud, as he had done a number of times since setting out alone to bring help to Nan and Mrs. Bimby. “I wish I had a drink of water!”
Now Bert Bobbsey knew better than to eat dry snow. Once when he was a small boy, smaller even than Freddie, he had been playing out in the snow and had eaten it whenever he felt thirsty. As a result he had been made ill.
“Never eat snow again, Bert,” his father had told him at the time. And to make Bert remember Mr. Bobbsey had read the boy a story of travelers in the Arctic regions searching for the North Pole. The story told how,no matter how tired or cold these travelers were, they always stopped to melt the snow and make water or tea of it when they were thirsty. They never ate dry snow.
“I’ve either got to find a spring to get a drink, or melt some of this snow,” said Bert to himself, as he walked on, limping a little, though his leg was feeling better than at first. “But I guess if I did find a spring it would be frozen over. Now how can I melt some snow?”
Bert had been on camping trips with his father, and he had often seen Mr. Bobbsey make use of things he found beside the road or in the woods to help out in a time of some little trouble. With this in mind, the boy began to look around for something that would help him get a drink of water, or to melt some snow into water which he could drink after it had cooled.
But to melt snow needed a fire, he knew, and also something that would hold the snow before and after it was melted.
“I need a pan or a can and a fire,” decided Bert. “I wonder if I have any matches?”
He felt in his pockets and found some, though he did not usually carry them, for they are rather dangerous for children. But Bert felt that he was now getting to be quite a boy.
“Well, here’s a start,” he said to himself as he felt the matches in his pocket. But he did not take them out, for the snow was blowing about, and Bert knew that a wet match was as bad as none at all. He must keep his matches dry as the old settlers were advised to “keep their powder dry.”
“If I could only make a fire,” thought Bert, coming to a stop and looking about him at a spot that looked as if it might once have been a camp. All he could see was a waste of snow and some trees. But wood for fires, he knew, grew on trees, though any wood which could be made to burn must be dry.
“Maybe I could scrape away some snow and make a fire,” thought Bert. “The thing I need most, though, is a tin can to hold snow and water. Ouch! My leg hurts!” he exclaimed.
His leg, just then, seemed to get a “kink” in it, as he said afterward. He kicked out, asfootball players do sometimes when their legs get twisted.
As it happened, Bert kicked his foot into a little pile of snow, and next he was surprised to find that he had kicked something out. At first it seemed to be a lump of ice, but as it rolled a few feet and the snow fell away, the boy found that he had kicked into view an empty tin tomato can!
“Here’s luck!” cried Bert, as he sprang after the can before it could be covered from sight in the snow again. “This sure is luck! I can melt some snow in this now!”
Taking the can in his hand he knocked it against his shoe, thus getting rid of the snow that filled it. The can was opened half way, and the tin top was bent back, making a sort of handle to it, which Bert was glad to see. It would enable him without burning his fingers to lift the can off the fire he intended to build.
“All I need now is some dry wood, and I can make a fire and melt snow to make water,” he said aloud. “If I had some tea I could make a regular hot drink, like they have upat the North Pole. But I guess water will be all right. Now for some wood!”
He made his way over to a clump of trees and, by kicking away the snow, he managed to find some dead sticks. As the snow was dry they were not very wet, but Bert feared they were not dry enough to kindle quickly. And he had only a few matches.
“I’ve got some paper, though,” he told himself, as lie felt in his pockets. “A little soft, dry wood, and that, will start a fire and the other wood will burn, even if it is a little damp.”
One of the lessons Bert’s father had taught him was to make a campfire, and Bert put some of this instruction to use now. He hunted about until he found a fallen log, and by clearing away the snow at one end he revealed a rotten end. This soft wood made very good tinder, to start a fire.
The outer end of the rotten log was rather damp. But by kicking away this latter, Bert got at some wood that was quite dry—just what he wanted.
He swung his foot that was not lame fromside to side, clearing a place on the ground at one side of the log, and there he laid his paper and the wood to start his fire.
You may be sure Bert was very anxious as he struck one of his few matches and held it to the paper. He hardly breathed as he watched the tiny flame. And then, all at once, the blaze flickered out after it had caught one edge of the paper!
“This is bad luck!” murmured Bert. “I’ve got a few more chances, though.”
He crumpled up the paper in a different shape, arranged it carefully under the pile of splinters and rotten wood, and struck another match. This time he made sure to hold in his breath completely, for it was his breath before, he feared, that had blown out the match.
This time the paper caught and blazed up merrily. Bert wanted to shout and cry “hurrah!” but he did not. The fire was not really going yet, and he was getting more and more thirsty all the while. It was all he could do not to scoop up some of the dry snow and cram it into his mouth. But he held back.
“I’ll have some water melted in a littlewhile,” he told himself. “My fire is going now.”
And, indeed, the tiny flame had caught the soft wood and was beginning to ignite the twigs. From them the larger and heavier pieces of wood would catch, and then he could set the can of snow on to melt into water.