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 brook could 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, though the 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 just before 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 shelter until 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 the boy’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 blown away, 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 low on 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 throw up 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 very serious 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 a stunted 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. On he 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!