The Corner House Girls Snowbound

The snow was sifting down now very thickly, and in a very short time the trio was likely to have to drag the empty sled through deep drifts. Even Sammy was secretly sorry they had come such a long way from the Lodge. Although it was barely mid-afternoon, it seemed to be growing dark.

They struggled to make the sled slide, however; neither Sammy nor Tess was a child who easily gave up when circumstances became obstinate. Tess continued to dig her heels into the snow, and when the sled almost stopped, Sammy plunged his arms elbow deep into the snow to aid in its movement.

But suddenly they went over a hummock. It seemed a steep descent on the other side. In spite of the gathering snow the sled got under better headway.

“Hurrah, Tess!” yelled Sammy. “We’re all right now.”

“I – I hope so!” gasped the older girl.

“Oh! Oh!” shrieked Dot. “We’re going!”

They really were going – or, so it seemed. Faster and faster ran the sled, for the hill had suddenly become steep. It was snowing too thickly for any of them to notice that this part of the track was entirely new to them.

They shot around a turn and took another dip toward the valley. Sammy did not mind the snow beating into his face now. He yelled with pleasure. The little girls hung on, delighted. The sled sped downward.

All marks of the bobsled’s runners were long since lost under the new snow. The hill grew steeper. Sammy’s yells were half stifled by the wind and snow.

It did seem as though that slide was a very long one! In climbing the hill the trio had had no idea they had walked so far. And how steep it was!

Over a level piece the sled would travel at a moderate rate, and then shoot down a sudden decline that almost took their breath. Surely they must have traveled almost to the Lodge from which they had started.

Finally the path became level. Great trees rose all about them. They could see but a short distance in any direction because of the falling snow.

The sled stopped. The girls hopped off and Sammy struggled to his feet and shook the snow out of his eyes.

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” he choked. “What a slide! Did you ever, Tess?”

“No, I never did,” admitted Tess quite seriously.

“Oh!” cried Dot. “Let’s go home. I’m co-co-o-old. Why – why – ” she gasped suddenly, looking about on all sides.

“Well, don’t cry about it,” snorted Sammy. “Of course we’ll go home. We must be almost there now – we slid so far.”

“Oh, yes. We must be near Red Deer Lodge,” agreed Tess.

It did not look like any place they had ever seen before. The trees were much taller than any they had noticed about the Lodge. Yet there was the open path ahead of them. They set Dot upon the sled again, and Tess helped Sammy drag it and her sister straight ahead. Somewhere in that direction they were all three sure Red Deer Lodge was situated.

CHAPTER XX – FOLLOWING ANOTHER TRAIL

After all the activities of the forenoon both by the older boys and girls of the vacation party at Red Deer Lodge, and by the children as well, the soft snow was considerably marked up by footprints around the premises.

Ike M’Graw and Neale O’Neil, searching for prints of the feet of those who they thought had left the vicinity of the house early that morning, struck directly off for the edge of the clearing.

“The best we can do,” M’Graw declared, “is to follow the line of the woods clean around the clearing. Somewhere, whoever ’tis got that fox and lifted the canned goods, must have struck into the woods. They ain’t hidin’ in the barns or anywhere here. I’ve been searchin’ them. That’s certain.”

Neale had very bright eyes, and not much could escape them; but the snow was coming down fast now and even he could not distinguish marks many yards ahead.

Here and there they beheld footprints; but always examination proved them to be of somebody who belonged at the Lodge. The prints in the snow Luke and his sister and Ruth had made soon after breakfast fooled Neale for a moment, but not for long.

They saw the woodsman’s big prints, too, where he had been looking for the marks of the fox hunter. There were the marks Neale himself and Agnes had made when they had followed the “deer.”

All these various marks bothered the searchers; and all the time, too, the snow was falling and making the identification of the various prints of feet the more difficult.

“This here’s worse than nailing the animals that they say went into the ark that time Noah set sail for Ararat,” declared Ike, chuckling. “Whoever followed them critters up to the gangplank must have been some mixed up —

“Hello! What’s this?”

They had come around behind the sheds. Here was the entrance to the road on which Neale and Luke with the three older girls had coasted that forenoon. The woodsman was pointing to marks in the snow, now being rapidly filled in. Neale said:

“Oh, we were sliding on this hill, you know.”

“Uh-huh? Who was?”

“Five of us. With a big bobsled.”

“Now, you don’t tell me that bobsled made them marks,” interposed the old man. “I know that bobsled.”

“Why – I – ”

“Them runner marks was made by little Ralph Birdsall’s scootin’ sled. I know that, too. Who’s gone up to slide this afternoon?”

“That must be the kids!” exclaimed Neale. “I wonder if Ruth knows they are out here playing! I remember now I didn’t see them at the front of the house.”

“You don’t suppose they’ve gone far?”

“Oh, I guess they will come to no harm around here. Ruth would not let them go away from the Lodge to play.”

“Humph!” muttered the old man.

But he went on. There was really no reason for Neale to be worried about the children. They were almost always well behaved. At least, they seldom disobeyed.

Besides, it was only a few minutes later when Mr. Howbridge, well muffled against the storm, appeared with Tom Jonah on a leash. The old woodsman had just got down on his knees in the snow to examine two lines of faint impressions that left the path John’s footprints had made to the farther shed.

“Now, what’s this? A deer jumped out here – or what?”

Neale waited and Mr. Howbridge held the dog back. Ike got up and followed the half-filled impressions a little farther. They headed directly for the thicker woods to the north of the Lodge premises.

“Might have been feet – small feet. And two sets of ’em,” said Ike. “Hi, Mister! did you find anything up in that closet belongin’ to the twins?”

“Here is a pair of bed slippers. Knitted ones. They are much too small for a grown person,” the lawyer declared.

M’Graw took the articles thoughtfully into his big hands. “Humph! Look like little Missie’s slippers. Certainly do. Roweny, you know. Wonder if this old dog knows anything.”

He offered the slippers to Tom Jonah to sniff. The dog had been used to following a scent in times past; often they would send him after Dot or Tess or Sammy. He snuffed eagerly at the knitted shoes.

“Don’t know how strong the scent is on ’em. It’s been some time, p’r’aps, since little Roweny wore ’em. But – ”

Tom Jonah whined, sniffed again, and then lifted up his muzzle and barked, straining at the leash.

“Looks like he understands,” said the old man, reaching for the leash and taking the bight of it from Mr. Howbridge’s hand. “Good dog! Now, go to it. These here footprints – if that’s what they are – are fillin’ in fast.”

Tom Jonah put his nose to the marks in the snow. He sniffed, threw some of the light snow about with his nose, and started off. He followed the faint trail into the woods. But Neale doubted if the dog followed by scent.

Once in the thicket the marks were only visible here and there. The fresh snow was sifting down faster and faster. The dog leaped from one spot to another, whining, and eagerly seeking to pick up the scent.

“It’s awful unlucky this here snow commenced as it has. Hi! I don’t see what we can do,” sighed Ike.

“Do you really believe those marks were the twins’ footsteps?”

“I do. I believe they was in the house when your folks came, Mr. Howbridge,” M’Graw said. “But now – ”

Tom Jonah halted, threw up his shaggy head, and howled mournfully.

“Oh, don’t, Tom Jonah!” cried Neale O’Neil. “It sounds like – like somebody was dead!”

“Or lost, eh?” suggested Ike. “Ain’t no use. He – nor a better dog – couldn’t follow a scent through such snow. We’re too late. But I’d like to know where them children went, if these is them!”

They turned back toward the Lodge, rather disheartened. If the two Birdsall children, who had been left to the care of Mr. Howbridge, were really up here alone in the wilderness – and perhaps shelterless at this time – what might not happen to them? What would be the end of this strange and menacing situation?

Nobody spoke after M’Graw expressed himself until they came to the path on which they had previously seen the marks of the small sled and the footprints of Sammy and the two youngest Corner House girls. These traces were now entirely obliterated. It was snowing heavily and the wind was rising.

“Hi gorry!” ejaculated the old woodsman, “how about those other children? Are they at home where they ought to be?”

“Whom do you mean?” asked the lawyer, rather startled.

But Neale understood. He looked sharply about. Not an impression in the snow but that of their own feet was visible.

“I’ll go and see if the sled is returned to the place they got it from,” he said, and dashed away to the shed.

Before Mr. Howbridge and M’Graw had reached the Lodge Neale O’Neil came tearing after them.

“Oh, wait! Wait!” he shouted. “They haven’t come back with the sled. What do you suppose can have happened to Sammy and Tess and Dot?”

CHAPTER XXI – ROWDY

About the time Neale O’Neil was asking his very pertinent question about the whereabouts of Sammy and Tess and Dot, that trio had stopped, breathless and not a little frightened, in a big drift at what seemed the bottom of a deep hole.

The snow swirled about them so, and they seemed to have come so far down from the place where they had pushed off on the sled, that they believed it was a deep hole; and there seemed no possibility of getting out of it.

“I – I guess,” quavered Dot, “that we’ll just have to lie right down here and let the snow cover us all – all up.”

“I do wish, child, when you get into trouble that you wouldn’t give up all hope, right first off!” exclaimed Tess, rather exasperated at her sister. “Of course we are not going to give up and lie down in this snow.”

“Of course not!” echoed Sammy Pinkney.

Nevertheless, Sammy experienced a chill up and down his spine, and the short hairs at the back of his neck stiffened. It was borne upon his mind all of a sudden that they were lost – utterly lost! He could not understand how they had got off of the straight path to Red Deer Lodge; but he was very sure that they had done so and, as far as he knew, they were miles and miles away from that shelter and from their friends.

Yet there seemed nothing to do but keep on through the snow – as long as they could press forward. Tess was quite as plucky as he made believe to be. And they could haul Dot a little way at a time on the sled.

“But we’re going on, Sammy, without getting anywhere,” was Tess’ very wise observation. “I think we ought to scrouge down under something until the snow stops.”

“Just like the Babes in the Woods,” wailed Dot, who knew all the nursery stories.

“Do be still!” cried her sister, quite tartly. “Sammy and I are going to find you a nice place to stop, Dot.”

“Well, I hope it’s a place with a fire in it, ’cause I’m cold,” complained the smallest Corner House girl.

They all wished for a fire and shelter, but the older ones feared with reason that both comforts would not be immediately found. Sammy had not ventured forth this time prepared for all emergencies, as he had the time that Dot and he ran away to sail piratically the canal. He had no means of making a fire, even if he could find fuel.

Sammy was not without fertility of ideas, however; and these to a practical end. It must never be said of him, when the lost party got back to Red Deer Lodge, that he had not done his duty toward his companions.

He saw that the lower branches of some of the big spruce trees swept the snow – indeed, their ends were drifted over in places. Under those trees were shelters that would break both the wind and the snow. He said this to Tess, and she agreed.

“But we must keep a hole open to look out of,” she said. “Otherwise we won’t see the folks when they come hunting for us.”

“Je-ru-sa-lem! If they come along this road while it’s snowing like this lookin’ for us, we’d never see ’em,” muttered the boy.

But he kept this opinion to himself. Vigorous action claimed Sammy Pinkney almost immediately. While Dot “sniffled,” as he called it, on the half-buried sled, Sammy started to dig under the boughs of a tree near at hand.

The wind seemed to be less boisterous here, but the snow was drifting rapidly. Back of the tree the steep hillside rose abruptly, somewhat sheltering the spot.

Sammy burrowed through the drift like a dog seeking a rabbit. He found a way between two branches of the spruce, over which the snow had packed hard at a previous fall. He had to break away fronds of the tough branches to open a hole into the dark interior.

“Come on!” he shouted, half smothered by the snow he was pawing out. “Here’s a hole.”

“Oh, Sammy! suppose there should be something in there?” gasped Tess, her lips close to his ear.

At this suggestion Master Sammy drew back with some precipitation.

“Aw, Tess! what d’you want to say such things to a feller for?” he growled. “If there is anything in there we’ll find it out soon enough.”

Dot’s sharp ears had heard something of this. She shrieked:

“Oh! Is it mice? I am afraid of mice, and I won’t go in there till you drive them all out, Sammy.”

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” murmured Sammy, with vast disgust. “Don’t girls beat everything?”

“I don’t care! I don’t like mice,” reiterated the smallest Corner House girl.

“Huh!” declared Sammy, wickedly, “maybe there’ll be wolves under there.”

“Wolfs? Well, I haven’t my Alice-doll here, so I don’t care about wolfs. But mice I am afraid of!”

At that Sammy took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and dived out of sight. He found that there was quite a sharp incline over hard snow to the bottom of the hole. All around the trunk of the tree, and next to it, was bare, hard ground. It made a roomy shelter, and it was just as warm as any house could be without a fire.

There was a quantity of dry and dead branches under here to scratch him and tear at his clothing. Sammy broke these off as he crawled around the tree, making the way less difficult for the little girls when they should enter.

A little light entered by the hole down which he had plunged. It made the interior of the strange shelter of a murky brownness, not at all helpful in “seeing things.”

Sammy was quite sure there was no wolf housed in here; but about the mice or other small rodents he was not so sure.

However, he called to the little girls cheerfully to come down, and Dot immediately scrambled in, feet first. Tess followed her sister with less precipitation. Like Sammy, she felt the burden of their situation much more than did Dot. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” was Dot’s opinion.

Sammy crawled out again and rescued the sled which was already buried in the snow. He dragged it to the opening and left it right over the hole so as to keep the snow from drifting in upon them.

“But it makes it so dark, Sammy!” said Tess, a little sharply.

“Wait a while. You can see better pretty soon. Your eyes get used to the dark – just like you went down cellar at night for a hod of coal.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t!” declared Dot. “But I’m not afraid of the dark. It’s nothing you can feel.”

So they were very cozy and fairly warm under the tree. Soon the snow had heaped so thickly over the mouth of their shelter that they could not even hear the wind.

They had eaten a good lunch. Sammy had some nuts in his pockets. It was now about four o’clock. They were not likely to suffer for anything needful for some time. And, of course, neither of the three thought that their stay under the spruce tree would be for long.

“If the snow doesn’t stop pretty soon, and so we can get out and find the way home, Neale O’Neil and Aggie will come for us,” Dot said, with considerable cheerfulness for her. “I’m all warm now, and I don’t care.”

Sammy did not feel altogether as sure that they would escape from the difficulty so easily; but he did not openly express his belief. He was, like the little girls, glad to have found shelter. With provisions and a fire, he said, they could stay here like Crusoes.

“You know, Robinson Crusoe lived in a cave, and in a hut. And he was all alone till he got some goats and a Man Friday.”

“We might have brought Billy Bumps along,” said Dot thoughtfully.

“I guess I wouldn’t want to live with an old goat,” Tess observed, with scorn.

They had no means of measuring the passage of time, and of course it seemed that “hours and hours” must have passed before Sammy tried to look out through the opening the first time.

And this was no easy work. The snow had gathered so quickly and packed down so hard upon the sled that the boy could scarcely raise it. Finally, by backing under the sled and rising up with it on his shoulders, the sturdy little fellow broke through the drift.

“I got it!” he shouted back to Tess and Dot. “But, oh, Je-ru-sa-lem! ain’t it snowin’ though? Bet it never snowed so hard before. I guess we’ll have to stay here till they dig us out.”

“Oh, Sammy! All night?” gasped Dot.

“Well, I don’t know about that. But until this old snow stops, anyway.”

He, nor the little girls, scarcely appreciated the fact that the worst blizzard of the winter had broken over that territory, and that trails and paths were being utterly obliterated. The keenest scented dog, and the most experienced woodsman, could not have traced the three children to their present shelter.

Sammy came in and fixed the sled again to keep out the snow. He felt pretty serious – for him. Sammy Pinkney was not in the habit of looking for the worst to happen. Quite the contrary.

Yet he could not throw off anxiety as easily as Dot could. As long as she was not hungry, and was warm, the smallest Corner House girl felt quite cheerful.

They could see a little better in their cozy nest now, and being assured that there were no mice, thought of other wild creatures of the forest did not disturb Dot Kenway.

“Let’s play something,” said Dot. “Cum-ge-cum!”

“What do you come by?” asked Tess quickly. This was an old, old game of guessing that Aunt Sarah Maltby had taught the little folks.

“I come by the letter ‘S,’” declared Dot.

“Snow,” guessed Sammy promptly.

“No.”

“It’s got to be the ’nitial of something in this – this house,” Tess observed. “Shoes, Dottie?”

“No. ’Tisn’t shoes. And ’tis in the house – if you call this a house.”

“Shirt,” Sammy declared.

“Nopy!”

“Sled?” guessed Tess.

“No, it is not ‘sled,’” said the littlest girl.

“Stockin’s?” suggested Sammy. “I’ve got a hole in one o’ mine. Feels like my big toe was stranglin’ to death, so it does.”

“S-s-s – ”

“Oh, stop!” shrieked Dot suddenly. “What’s that at the door?”

The two little girls shrieked again and scrambled behind the trunk of the tree. Sammy was just as scared as a child could be, but he sat right where he was and watched the dim light grow at the hole over which he had pulled the sled.

Something was scratching there, dragging the sled away from over the hole in the snowdrift. Sammy did not know that even the hungriest animal in the forest was snugly housed during this storm. The creatures of the wild do not hunt when the weather is so boisterous.

It might have been a wolf, or a bear, or a lynx, or a tiger, as far as the small boy knew. Just the same, having the responsibility of Tess and Dot on his mind, he had to stay and face the unknown.

Suddenly a voice spoke from without. It said with much disgust:

“Oh, shut up your squalling. I’m not going to bite you.”

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” murmured Sammy. “What’s this?”

In a minute he was reassured, for the sled was torn away and a head and shoulders appeared down the opening through the drift.

“Hello!” exclaimed the voice again. “How did you get here? How many of you are there?”

“Two girls and a boy. And we slid here,” said Sammy, gulping down a big lump in his throat.

“Girls?” gasped the stranger, who seemed to be very little older than Sammy himself. “Girls out in this blizzard?”

“No. We’re all safe in here under the tree,” said Sammy, with some indignation. “I wouldn’t let ’em stay out in the storm.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the stranger. “And do you intend to stay here till it stops snowing?”

“Why not?” demanded Sammy.

“That won’t be until tomorrow – maybe next day,” was the cheerful response. “I guess you don’t know much about storms up here in the woods.”

“Nope. We come from Milton.”

“Oh!” exclaimed the other. “You’re some of that bunch from Red Deer Lodge, aren’t you?”

“Ye – yes, sir,” Tess interposed politely. “Do you suppose you could show us the way home?”

“Just now I couldn’t,” said the other, wriggling his way into the shelter. “This is pretty good in here. But you’d better come to my cave.”

“Oh! do you live in a cave?” asked Sammy.

“Isn’t it dark?” asked Tess.

“Are there fishes in it with blind eyes?” demanded Dot, who had heard something about the fish of the streams in the Mammoth Cave, and thought all caves were alike.

“Fish?” snorted the newcomer. “I guess not! Wish there were. We’d eat them. And we need meat.”

“Is – is your cave far?” asked Sammy, in some doubt.

“No. Just back of this tree. And we’d better get back there quick, or the door will be all snowed under. This is a big, big storm.”

“Who are you?” Tess asked. “If you don’t mind telling us. This is Sammy Pinkney; and I’m Tess Kenway; and this is my sister, Dot.”

“Huh!” said the stranger. “I – I’m Rowdy.”

“Rowdy?” repeated Tess, wonderingly.

“That’s what they call me,” said the other hastily. “Just Rowdy. And we’d better go to my cave.”

“But you don’t live out here in the woods all by yourself, do you?” asked Sammy, in much surprise.

“No. But – but my father’s gone a long way off.” The boy hesitated a moment, and then added: “Gone to Canada – trapping. Won’t be back for ever so long. So I live in the cave.”

“Oh, my!” murmured Tess.

“Je-ru-sa-lem!” exclaimed Sammy. “Ain’t you afraid to live here alone?”

“I’m not afraid,” said their new friend. “And there’s nobody to boss you all the time here. Come on. You follow me. Drag along the sled. We might need that after the snow’s stopped.”

He started to crawl out through the hole into the storm again, and the trio from Red Deer Lodge decided that there was nothing better to do than to follow him.

CHAPTER XXII – IN THE CAVE

The snow beat down upon them so when they were outside of the shelter that the little girls could scarcely get their breath. Dot clung to Tess’ hand and bleated a few complaining words. But the strange boy said sharply:

“Don’t be blubbering. We’ll be all right in a minute. I want to hunt for something around here. That’s what I come out of the cave for.”

“Am not blubbering!” muttered Dot, quite indignant. “But this old snow – ”

“Oh, I’ve got it!” shouted the strange boy, leaping ahead through the snow with great vigor. “Come on! Don’t lose sight of me.”

“You bet we won’t,” said Sammy, urging Tess and Dot on ahead of him and dragging the sled after.

“What is it?” asked Tess, curiously.

“A trap,” said the other.

“Oh!”

“What kind of a trap?” asked the eager Sammy.

“Rabbit trap. Box trap. Rafe and I brought it down here with us and set it this morning. I put a handful of corn in it and I saw rabbit tracks all about just before it began to snow so hard. Here it is.”

The speaker had knelt down in the snow and was uncovering some long, narrow object with his hands.

“It’s sprung, anyway. You see, the door’s dropped,” he said. “The rabbit pokes right in after the corn, and when he begins to eat the bait clear at the end of the box, he trips the trigger and the door falls. Yes! He’s here!”