"That's a mean trick, Dick, on a fellow who is dead tired
out."
"I didn't mean to do it, Tom. I was going outside, to see how the
weather is. I reckon the snow is pretty deep."
The talking aroused the guide and Sam, and soon all were on their feet.
The snow in the opening was pushed back and they forced their way
outside, to find themselves in a drift up to their waists.
"Gosh, but we are right in it!" was Tom's comment. "See, the river is
completely covered. That settles skating."
"And the worst of it is, it is still showing," came from Dick.
"With no signs of letting up," finished John Barrow. "Boys, I am afraid
we are snowed in, or snowed up, just as you feel like calling it."
"Do you mean we'll have to remain here?" questioned Sam quickly.
"For the present. We are a good four miles from the pond, and we can't
tramp that in this storm."
The wind was rising again, with a dull moaning through the timber, and
sending the flakes whirling in all directions, and they were glad enough
to get back to the shelter of the cedars.
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