  Barry and Kent stood in the storm-tossed woods and gazed with sinking hearts at the ledge of rock before them. It told them in unmistakable terms that they were lost and, as Barry had truly said, at a very serious time. After all of their recent pushing on, they were right back at the place where they had been a short time before. “I wonder how we came to go around like that?” Kent asked, as he brushed snow from the front of his coat and tried to see around him. “Easy to do in a blinding storm like this one,” Barry replied. “Well, we’re into it for fair. Shall we try it again, or turn back to Fox Point?” “I don’t want to turn back,” Kent protested. “Mac and Tim will be badly worried, and I’d like to make it through, if we possibly can. Which way do you think we ought to go?” “I thought we were going right, and yet we came around in a circle. Trouble is, it is getting so confounded dark. Want to try going on again?” “Yes, and we’ll go more west than we have been going. We can’t stand here and freeze.” They started forward once more, striking out in a new direction which seemed to both of them to be the right way. The wind was searching and they lowered their heads, both to keep their faces out of the cutting blast and to shelter their eyes from the driving snow. The sled, dragging along back of them, made slow progress through the mounting snow, and it caught frequently on the snags and bushes. From time to time they changed and took turns pulling it, but after a time Barry halted and came close to his chum, whom he could scarcely see in the gloom. “I think we ought to leave the sled,” he shouted. Kent nodded, knocking snow off of his collar. “I have been thinking that, too,” he returned. “We can’t make any progress with it.” “We’ll put it somewhere near a landmark, so that we will be able to find it again,” Barry proposed, trying to look around. “After the storm we can come back and locate it.” “If we ever do come back alive,” said Kent. Barry slapped him on the back. “We’ll come back, all right. We’re only temporarily bewildered in a snowstorm. Let’s find a place to leave the sled.” Kent took his flashlight off the hook on his belt and flashed it around. The light of it revealed falling flakes and an ever-increasing depth of snow on the ground. Advancing a few yards, they came to a tall shaft of rock and earth that formed a shelter from the driving power of the New England storm. It was with relief that they got out of the direct path of the wind. “Here is as good a place as any,” Barry proclaimed, pulling the sled in close to the foot of the small bluff. “We may have a hard time finding the spot, but at least we know the sled will be under an overhang of dirt and stone. This wouldn’t be a bad place in which to spend the night, if we had to.” “I hate the thought of staying out in this cold all night,” Kent shook his head. “So do I. Seems like my skin is pinched hard. I wonder if we can’t start a fire going here and eat something?” Kent again flashed the light around. “It will be a hard job, but it will be worth trying. I think we can get some dry wood out of that log over there. As long as we have the sled with us, we ought to use the food on it.” “You’re right. We haven’t anything to make coffee in, and about the only food we can eat is the steak we bought. We can spear that on a stick and cook it. Let’s try it.” Almost feeling their way, they began to chop into the wet log with the camp axes which they carried at their belts. The top wood was soft and pulpy, and even that which they hacked out of the heart of the log was not very dry. After the most tiresome efforts they succeeded in getting a pile of questionable wood together, and then came the task of setting it afire. Both of them huddled close to the pile and jealously guarded the tiny flame of the matches as they attempted to ignite the sticks and bits of wood. Six matches were soon wasted. “This looks hopeless,” Barry sighed. “Even the good store paper won’t light.” Kent jumped up. “What dummies we are! This storm has us buffaloed! We have two long containers of kerosene oil on the sled!” “Oh, good night!” exclaimed Barry, in disgust. “Of course we have! Douse this wood with it and then we won’t have any trouble starting our fire.” Unscrewing the top of a container, Kent poured some of the oil on the massed-up wood and then replaced the oil can on the sled. This time they had no difficulty, and when the match flame touched the oil-soaked wood, the fire ran rapidly from chip to chip until all were blazing. The cold and hungry boys stooped low and held out grateful hands to the flame. “Doesn’t a fire feel good?” Kent exulted. “Doesn’t it?” his companion echoed. He straightened up and began to search under the sled canvas for the steak which they had purchased at Fox Point. “We’ll have to get at our cooking right away, because when the oil burns off, this wood is going to be poor material, especially when we add more to it.” “You’re right about that,” Kent acknowledged. “I’ll cut a couple of sharp sticks to cook the steak on.” He took out his hunting knife and hacked at some bushes that showed dimly in the shadows from the fire. Before long he had procured two fine shafts, and then he proceeded to sharpen a point on each one. In the meantime Barry cut the steak in two and then cut it again. “Maybe some of those things on the sled ought to go with us when we leave here,” he observed, as he thrust the pointed stick through the steak. “We don’t know how long we may be on the march, and we’ll want food with us.” “Too bad we haven’t got a knapsack along,” Kent declared. “It is, but we have some good pockets that will take a few things. Once this storm clears, we’ll be able to see something. Unfortunately, we don’t know when it will let up.” They became silent, holding the portions of steak over the blaze, and soon the meat was browning and the juice dripping into the fire. As Barry had said, the quality of the blaze soon became poor, and when fresh fuel was added it was uncertain and smoky. But they managed to eat their steak, and it went a long way toward giving them a better feeling. “I missed salt and bread with it,” Kent smiled, as they finished the steak. “But it certainly was good all by itself. Well, what shall we do?” “I believe that we ought to go on. This fire doesn’t amount to anything, and there is no use hanging around here all night. We don’t want to use up our oil on the fire, and we would have to work all night to cut wood for it.” “Then let’s tie the canvas down tight over the sled and cover it up with some branches so that no wandering animal can get into it,” Kent proposed, and they spent some time in doing this. When this task had been attended to, they set out once more, heading into the dashing flakes once more. “The twins will be badly worried,” Barry said, as they stumbled along, making better time now that they were no longer held back by the burden of the sled. “Yes, they will. I hope they won’t come out and try to find us.” “I doubt that they will. They can see how bad the storm is and that they would be lost in no time at all. Boy, that flashlight of yours is a life-saver!” There was no question that the flashlight was tremendously valuable. Kent used it sparingly and turned it on only at intervals, but it guided them on their journey. They kept on going and at last were ready to give up in despair, as they had passed no home and even the country did not look familiar to them. At last Barry halted and looked around. “Flash your light up,” he directed. “Where are we?” Kent played the light around him, and they saw that they were in an old quarry. The rock walls gleamed in the faint light of the flash. “A quarry!” Barry cried. Kent played the light down toward the ground, and they saw a small shed. “There is shelter, if we need it,” he began. At that moment the flashlight slipped out of his hand and fell into the snow. “Doggone it,” he grumbled. “I dropped the light.” Both of them stooped to search for it and then paused as they heard a sound near them. Someone was approaching, and they felt a great relief as they realized it. Neither of them spoke, and a moment later a light flashed out, evidently from a flashlight. The beam rested on the shed, and the boys waited to see the face or form of the one who held it. But they were destined to be disappointed. A hand came into the center of light and turned the knob on the shed door. The hand was sheltered in a black glove, and that was all that they saw of the person who opened the door of the quarry shed. The light was instantly extinguished and the door slammed shut. They heard a key turn in the lock. “Wonder who that was?” Kent asked. He had found the flashlight, and they both stood up and tried to see things more clearly. “I don’t know. Funny he didn’t hear us or see our light.” “The wind is too loud for him to have heard us. Seems as though he should have seen our light. Going to ask for some help?” “Of course. We don’t know our way, and we need to have someone tell us. We’ll knock on the door.” Approaching the small quarry shed, Barry knocked on the door, and they waited. The wind still blew strongly, and the flakes drifted down into the abandoned quarry. No answer came to their summons, and Barry tried again. They listened with growing impatience. “It’s a wonder he wouldn’t open the door or at least call out,” Kent growled. Barry took Kent’s flashlight and flashed the beam around. The shed was backed up against a dirt section of the quarry wall, and the windows were boarded up. It was impossible to look into the little shelter. He walked around on the far side and found that conditions there were the same. Then they once more stood before the door and listened. Barry kicked the door. “Is anybody here?” he shouted. “We’re two boys that have lost our way, and we want to ask directions.” The only answer was a profound stillness from the inside of the quarry shed. The boys looked at each other, and angry thoughts leaped into their minds. They had been adrift in the cold and storm so long that this lack of common humanity on the part of the man whom they had seen enter the shed aroused them. “He’s hiding in there and won’t answer,” Kent cried. “We ought to kick the door in!” “I’d like to know what he’s hiding for,” Barry said. “He must have some reason for not wanting to talk to us.” |
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