"What are we to do?" asked Chet, dubiously. He had fancied the foxes would disappear at the discharge of the shotgun--for that was what foxes usually did down in Maine. "We'll do our best to stand them off until it grows lighter," answered Barwell Dawson. "Do you think they will run away if we go out after them?" "Not if they are very hungry. Remember, a hungry animal is always desperate." Sleep was now out of the question, and they took turns in watching the foxes from the entrance to the snow hut. It was too cold to remain outside long. "They are coming closer," announced Andy, after two hours had passed. The foxes had stopped barking some time previously. The report was true. The beasts were coming up stealthily, moving a foot or two, and then stopping to reconnoiter. "I'll give them another shot from the gun," said Chet, and was as good as his word. This time two of the foxes were killed, and almost immediately their companions fell upon the carcasses, and began to tear them apart. "That shows how hungry they are," declared Barwell Dawson. "Shall we give up the bear to them?" asked Chet. "Not yet--but we may have to do so in order to escape them," answered the explorer, with a doubtful shake of his head. Another hour went by slowly, and by shouting they managed to make the foxes keep their distance. But then the animals commenced to come closer once more, slowly but surely encircling the snow hut. It was a perilous situation to be in, and the youths realized it fully, as did Mr. Dawson. At any moment the foxes might make a concerted attack, and what could three persons do against ninety or more of such beasts? But now it was growing lighter, for which those in the hut were thankful. As the glow of the morning sun shone in the sky, Andy set up a loud shout and flung a fair-sized cake of ice at the foxes. The ice went gliding along, and struck one fox in the forelegs, wounding him severely. "Hurrah! why didn't we think of that before!" cried Chet. "A good idea," put in Barwell Dawson. "We'll treat them as if they were ten-pins!" Some loose ice was handy, and taking aim at the foxes, they sent piece after piece bowling over the icy surface on which they stood. The animals had again gathered in a pack, so they could not be missed. If one leaped out of the way, the chunk of ice hit the next, and soon there were howls of pain from several. Then the foxes retreated, and when Chet fired another shot, they suddenly turned tail, and trotted off, around a distant hill and out of sight. "They didn't like the ice and the daylight," said Barwell Dawson. "I doubt if they come back very soon. They may try it again tonight, but we'll be in camp by that time."