CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE SNOW SIEGE ENDED.

For the moment Harry was alarmed. What could have become of those left behind in charge of Camp Rest?

“Perhaps they grew anxious about Jack and me and have gone out to hunt us up,” he reasoned. “I’ll call them again.”

He went out and yelled at the top of his lungs. At first there was no reply, but presently came a call from some distance down the lake.

Ten minutes later Andy and Boxy appeared side by side, with Pickles behind them, carrying a heavy string of fish.

“We’ve been spearing and snaring fish all afternoon,” explained Andy. “See, we have caught nine, and none of them less than a pound in weight! Where is Jack?”

“I left him behind in another camp,” returned Harry.

“He isn’t sick or hurt, is he?” cried Andy, quickly.

“No, but he’s in charge of three sick young fellows,” and Harry smiled quizzically.

“Three sick young fellows,” repeated Boxy. “Whom do you mean?”

“Pete Sully, Dixon and Spencer.”

“No!” roared both Andy and Boxy.

“Yo’ doan’ say,” added Pickles. “If dat ain’t de wuss yit!”

They were soon about the campfire, and here, while Pickles cleaned the wild turkeys and fish, Harry told them of what had happened since Jack and he had started out on the search for game.

The others listened with deep interest. They were all affected when they learned how the bully and his companions had been found literally starving, and were glad to hear that Jack and Harry had treated them kindly.

“It ought to make Sully and the others mend their ways,” said Andy.

“It will, if I am not greatly mistaken,” returned Harry. “Certainly, they will never try to harm us again.”

Harry was thoroughly tired out, and was the first to roll himself up and go to sleep. One after another the others followed, and by nine o’clock Camp Rest was as silent as the grave, for the wind died out utterly.

In the morning a welcome surprise awaited the boys. The snow had ceased falling, and the sun was coming up as clear as a disc of gold over the hills.

“Hurrah! the snow siege is ended!” shouted Boxy. “And right glad am I of it!”

“I guess we all are,” said Andy. “I was sick of being snowed in. Now, if it remains clear, we may have a chance to go out by to-morrow.”

“Yes; I hope it stays clear for the rest of the outing,” put in Harry. “It is no fun to be out in a snowstorm with the wind blowing a perfect gale in your face.”

After breakfast the camp was put in order in anticipation of Jack’s return with the unfortunate trio. Fresh pine boughs were placed in one corner of the hut, in case any of the unfortunates should be exhausted by the trip and wish to lie down.

Harry had told of his adventure with the wildcat, and Andy said he hoped his brother and the others would not encounter such a beast.

They waited around the campfire until noon. Then one after another began to grow uneasy.

“He ought to be here by this time,” murmured Andy, for at least the tenth time.

“That’s so,” said Boxy. “He’s had four hours of daylight and more.”

“I dun racken he waited fo’ de sun to git wahmer,” said Pickles, and this proved to be the case.

The dinner was cooking over the stone oven when a shout was heard up the creek, and there appeared Jack, carrying on his strong young shoulders Len Spencer, while beside him walked Pete Sully with the game-bag and Bill Dixon with the guns. Every one of the crowd looked thoroughly tired out.

The boys around the campfire gave a cheer, to which Jack responded rather feebly. Sully and the others were too ashamed to utter a sound.

Andy and Boxy saw at a glance how mean they felt, and did what they could to make matters easy for them. They realized that the spirits of their enemies were broken, and they had no desire to do any heartless “crowing” because of this.

Sully and Dixon were able to take care of themselves, but Spencer had collapsed when almost in sight of camp, and had now to be given every possible care. He was laid in the hut, and Pickles made the boy who had been his own individual enemy a cup of broth which Spencer stowed away gratefully.

During the afternoon Sully was persuaded to tell his story, to which Dixon added his own experiences. We will not go into the details. Suffice it to say that the outing of the three had been a dismal failure from the start, and they were now anxious for but one thing--to get home again.

“I don’t see how you can get back, excepting you cross the lake and find a road to Rudd’s Landing,” said Harry.

“Isn’t there a railroad station down the lake on this side?” asked Dixon.

“Why, yes--Andrewsville!” cried Boxy. “It must be about three miles from here.”

“Then we’ll try to get to that place,” said Sully. “We can take the cars from there to Bagsville, where we can try to get our traps back, and then go from Bagsville to Rudskill. I don’t want any more tramping through the woods--at least not during the winter.”

During the remainder of that day all hands took it easy. The sun shone brightly, and on every side the snow went down as if by magic.

Early next morning all hands were stirring around the fire. Spencer felt once more like himself, and the unfortunate trio determined to set out for Andrewsville without delay. A good breakfast was had, and then Sully, Dixon and Spencer bid the members of the Zero Club good-by.

It was a trying moment when the bully and his companions offered to shake hands all around.

“I--I hope you fellows have the best kind of a time,” he said, in a low voice. “As for ourselves, we--we didn’t deserve it, and that’s all there is to it,” and off he strode; and a moment later the trio were gone out of sight, beyond the bend that led down the lake.

A long breath of relief went around. Everybody wanted to say something about the departed ones, but, somehow, the right words wouldn’t just come, and all were silent.

The sun was shining as it had the day previous, but it was colder. Jack and Andy had tried the snow about the camp, and found it everywhere covered with a heavy crust.

“Good! Now, if we can fit our boots with some sort of flat strips of wood, we can walk on most of the snow without much difficulty,” said Jack.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Harry, slowly. “I move we strike camp and spend the balance of our outing in some other locality.”

“I would just as lief!” cried Boxy. “This is a tour, you know. Let us go up the lake a few miles.”

The matter was talked over, and it was decided as Boxy wished. Harry left his wildcat pelt behind.

Long before noon they were on the way, leaving the hut and the stone oven standing, as well as the snowhouse.

“Now for several days of fresh adventures, and then for home!” cried Harry. “Boys, I do not think we can complain of lack of lively times since we have been away.”

“No,” returned Jack. “Sometimes the times have been a bit too lively. However, we are all safe and well, so we have no cause to complain.”

On and on over the frozen lake they went until fully four miles had been covered. They then came to a large cove, beyond which was a most attractive opening among a cluster of giant oaks and walnuts.

“How will that do?” asked Andy, and they decided on the spot that it would answer very well.

A sheltered nook between three great trees was soon selected for a temporary camp, and Pickles at once set to work to build a fire and put the pot on to boil.

“Kase it always smells moah like home when de meat’s cookin’,” he said, with a full show of his ivories.

Before starting to build a hut or find a shelter under the rocks back of the cluster of trees, the members of the Zero Club decided to make a short trip around the place.

They set off through the snow, and in a few minutes were surprised to strike a regular country road, along both sides of which ran a barbed-wire fence.

“Hullo! this is too near civilization to suit me!” cried Harry. “We may be squatting on private property.”

“That’s so,” returned Boxy. “We’ll have to move on a mile or two.”

They passed down the road for a few hundred yards and then came in sight of a large farmhouse, directly behind which was a stable and barn and half-a-dozen out-buildings.

“I wouldn’t mind going to the house and buying some bread and crackers and a pie, if they had them,” said Andy. “Pumpkin pie would go mighty good for a change.”

“So it would!” exclaimed Boxy. “Let us see what we can strike. We can pay---- Hullo! what’s the meaning of that?”

Boxy came to a sudden halt, and so did the others. They had just seen a man run from the back of the barn and disappear in a patch of woods. Hardly had he gone when a thick cloud of smoke rolled out of one of the open doors of the barn.

“He has set that barn on fire!” gasped Andy. “My! just look at the smoke.”

“Come on, boys! we must put that fire out!” cried Harry, springing ahead.

And away they dashed at top speed toward the burning structure.