Poor Sam was getting winded and skated only with the greatest
of difficulty.
It was dark when they reached the location the guide had in mind--a
rocky wall on one side of the river. At one point there was a split in
the rocks. This was overgrown at the top with cedars and brushwood,
forming something of a cave, ten or twelve feet wide and twice as deep,
the bottom of which was of rock and fairly smooth.
"I camped here two winters ago," said John Barrow, as he called a halt.
"I laced up the cedars above and they formed a fust-rate roof."
"I guess they are pretty well laced still," observed Dick. "They seem to
hold the snow very well. But we won't dare to make a fire in there"
"We'll build a fire in front, in this hollow, Dick. That will throw a
good deal of hot air into the place, and if we wrap ourselves in our
blankets we'll be warm enough."
Everyone in the party was anxious to get out of the nipping wind, and
they lost no time in entering the "cave," as Sam called it. The entrance
was low, and by placing the two sleds in an upright position on either
side they left an opening not over a yard wide.
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