The warning by Mr. Macksey, no less than the sudden blast of the storm, struck terror to the hearts of not only the moving picture girls, but to all the other players. For it was something to which they were not used—that terrible sweep of wind and blinding snow.

There had been heavy storms in New York, but there the big buildings cut off the force of the wind, except perhaps in some street canyon. But in the backwoods, on this stretch of open fields, there was no protection except that furnished by nature; or, in this case, by the sleds.

For a moment after the veteran hunter had called his warning no one moved. They all seemed paralyzed by fear. Then Mr. Macksey called again:

"Into shelter, every one of you! What do you mean; standing there in this storm? Get under the blankets—crouch down at the side of the sleds. I'll go for help."

"But you—you'll freeze to death—I can't permit you to go!" protested Mr. Pertell, yelling the words into the other's ear, to make himself heard above the storm.

"No, I'm used to this sort of thing!" the hunter replied. "I know a short cut to the lodge, and I can protect myself against the wind. I'll go."

"I don't like it!" repeated Mr. Pertell, while Mr. Macksey was forcing him back toward the protecting sled.

Meanwhile the others, now, if never before, feeling the need of shelter, were struggling through the blinding snow toward the broken sled, from which they had wandered a short time before while listening to the attempts made at solving the problem of getting on.

"Isn't this awful!" gasped Ruth, as she clung to Alice.

"Awful? It's just glorious!" cried the young girl. "I wouldn't have missed it for worlds."

"Oh, Alice, how can you say so? We may all die in this terrible storm!"

"I'm not going to think anything of the kind!" returned the other. "We'll get out of it, somehow, and laugh at ourselves afterward for being so silly as to be afraid. Oh, this is great!"

She was really glorying in the fierce outburst of nature. Perhaps she did not understand, or appreciate, it, for she had never seen anything like it before, and in this case ignorance might have been akin to bliss.

But the others, especially the drivers of the two sleds, with anxious looks on their cold faces, were trying to seek the shelter they so much needed, and also look to the restless horses. For the animals were now almost frantic with their desire to get away from that cutting wind and stinging snow.

"Unhitch 'em all!" roared Mr. Macksey to his men. "Take the horses from the sleds and get 'em back of as much shelter as you can find. Otherwise they may bolt and upset something. I'll take old Bald-face, and see if I can't get some kind of help."

Though what sort of aid he could bring to the picture actors in this time of storm and stress he hardly knew. But he was not going to give up without trying.

Ruth and Alice were trying to struggle back through the snow to their sled, and not making very successful work of it, when they felt arms at their sides helping them, and Russ and Paul came along.

"Fierce; isn't it!" cried Russ in Ruth's ear.

"Awful, and yet this sister of mine pretends that she likes it."

"I do!" declared Alice. "It's glorious. I can't really believe it's a blizzard."

"It's the beginning of one, though," Paul assured her. "I hear the drivers saying so. Their blizzards up here start in with a squall like this, and soon develop into a bad storm. This isn't at its worst yet."

"Well, I hope I see the worst of it!" said Alice.

"Oh, how can you so tempt fate?" asked Ruth, seriously.

"I'm not tempting fate, but I mean I do like to see a great storm—that is, if I'm protected, as I am now," and Alice laughed through the whirling snow into Paul's face, for he had wrapped a fold of his big ulster about her.

"Oh, dear!" sighed Ruth.

"What's the matter?" asked Russ, anxiously.

"I'm so worried."

"Don't be—yet," he said, reassuringly.

"But we may be snowed in here for a week!"

"Never mind—Mr. Switzer still has his pretzels, I believe."

She could not help laughing, in spite of their distress.

"Oh, poor daddy!" cried Alice, as she reached the sled, and Paul prepared to help her in, "he is trying to protect his poor throat." Mr. DeVere wore a heavy coat, the collar of which he had turned up, but even this seemed little protection, and he was now tying a silk handkerchief about his collar.

"I have the very thing for him!" cried Paul, taking off a muffler he wore.

"Oh, but you'll need that!" protested Alice, quickly.

"Not a bit of it—I'm as warm as toast," he answered. "Here you are, sir!" he called to Mr. DeVere, and when the latter, after a weak resistance, had accepted it (for he was really suffering from the cold), Alice thanked Paul with a look that more than repaid him for his knightly self-sacrifice.

The players were by now in the sled, which, in its damaged condition, had been let down as nearly level as possible. The blankets were pulled up over the side, and Mr. Macksey was preparing to unhitch one of the horses, and set off for help. Then one of the drivers gave a sudden cry, and came running up to his employer.

"Look!" he shouted. "The wind's shifted. It's blowing right across the top of this cut now. We'll be protected down here!"

This was indeed true. At the beginning of the squall, which was working up to a blizzard, the wind had swept up the canyon-like defile between the hills of earth and snow. But now the direction of the gale had shifted and was sweeping across the top of the depression. Thus those at the bottom were, in a measure, protected from the blast.

"By hickory!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey, "that's right. The wind has changed. Folks, you'll be all right for a while down here, until I can get help."

"Must you go?" asked Ruth, for now they could talk with more ease. Indeed, so fiercely was the snow sweeping across the top of the gulch that little of it fell into the depression.

"Oh, sure, I've got to get help," the hunter said. "You folks can't stay here all night, even if the wind continues to blow across the top, which makes it much better."

"Indeed and I will not stay here all night!" protested Mr. Bunn. "I most strenuously object to it."

"And so do I!" growled Mr. Sneed. "There is no need of it. I might have known something unpleasant would happen. I had a feeling in my bones that it would."

"Well, you'll have a freezing feeling in your bones if I don't get help," observed Mr. Macksey, grimly.

"And I am hungry, too," went on Mr. Sneed. "Why was not food brought with us in anticipation of this emergency?"

"Haf a pretzel!" offered Mr. Switzer, holding one out.

"Away with the vile thing!" snapped Mr. Sneed.

Mr. Macksey was about to leap on the back of the horse and start off, when the same driver who had noticed the change in the wind called out:

"I say, Mr. Macksey, I have a plan."

"What is it?"

"Maybe you won't have to go for help, after all. Why can't we take the forward bob from under the rear sled and put it in place of the broken one on the first sled? We can easily pass the bob by the second sled even if the place is narrow."

"By hickory! Why didn't you think of that before?" demanded the hunter. "Of course we can do it! Lively now, and we'll make the change. Got to be quick, or it'll be pitch dark."

It would have been very dark long ago had it not been for the snow, which gave a sort of reflected light.

"Come on!" cried Mr. Macksey. "We'll make the change. I guess I'll have to ask you folks to get out again," he said to the players in the first sled. "But it won't be for long. We'll have a good runner in place of the broken one, and then we can pile into two sleds and get into Elk Lodge. We'll leave the last sled until to-morrow."

"But what about our baggage?" asked Miss Pennington. "That is in the rear sled. Can we take that with us?"

"Not all of it," answered the hunter, "but you can crowd in as much as possible. The rest can wait."

"I want all of mine," declared the former vaudeville actress.

"So do I!" cried Miss Dixon.

"You'll be lucky if you get in out of this storm," said Mr. Pertell reprovingly, "to say nothing about baggage. Do the best you can, Mr. Macksey."

"I will. Come now, men, lively!"

It took some little time to make the change, but finally the work was done.

The broken runner was cast aside, and there were now two good sleds, one ahead of the other in the snowy defile. As much of the needed baggage as possible was transferred, and the four horses that had been on the rear sled were brought up and hitched to the remaining sleds—two to each so that each conveyance now had six animals attached to it.

"And by hickory!" exclaimed Mr. Macksey, that appearing to be his favorite expression, "By hickory, we'll need 'em all!"

They were now ready to set forth, and all rather dreaded going out into the open again, for the defile offered a good shelter from the storm. But it had to be done, for it was out of the question to stay there all night.

"Go 'long!" called the hunter, as he shook the long reins of his six horses, and cracked the whip with a report like a pistol. But the lash did not fall on the backs of the ready animals. Mr. Macksey never beat his horses—they were willing enough without that.

Lanterns had been lighted and hung on the sleds, to shed their warning rays through the storm. They now gleamed fitfully through the fast-falling snow.

"Are you feeling better now, Daddy?" asked Ruth of her father, as she glanced anxiously at him.

"Much better, yes. I am afraid I ought to give you back your muffler, Paul," he added.

"No indeed—please keep it," begged the young actor.

Alice reached beneath the blanket and pressed his hand in appreciation.

"Thanks," he laughed.

"It is I who thank you," she returned, softly.

They were now out in the open road, and the fury of the blast struck them with all its cruel force.

"Keep covered up!" shouted Mr. Macksey, through the visor of his cap, which was pulled down over his face. "We'll be there pretty soon."

On through the drifts plunged the straining horses. It was all six of them could do, pull as they might, to make their way. How cruelly the wind cut, and how the snow flakes stung! Soft as they really were, the wind gave them the feeling of pieces of sand and stone.

On through the storm went the delayed party. And then, when each one, in spite of his or her fortitude, was almost giving up in despair at the cold and the anxiety Mr. Macksey shouted out;

"Whoa! Here we are! All out for Elk Lodge!"