When they got outside, the look of the night and the feel of the air told them that the snow was nearer at hand than they had expected. In fact, a few soft, sly flakes were already dropping noiselessly. The friend at whose house they had left their coats and snow-shoes suggested their staying all night; but although Bob was nothing loath, Phil would not be persuaded. "Father said he’d wait up for us," he objected, "and he’ll get anxious if we’re not home by twelve o’clock.—Come along, Bob." Accordingly, off they went into the darkness of the night. When they reached the shore of the lake, they could just see the glimmer of the village lights by which they were to be guided—their home lying about half-a-mile to the left. Although their pace was far from a loitering one, they did not get over the snow by any means so fast as in the afternoon. Bob was not only tired and sleepy, but provoked with Phil for refusing to stay all night at their friend’s house. Indeed, he hoped his brother would yet repent and return, and so his feet dragged not a little. Noticing this, Phil said briskly,— "Step out, Bob; we’ll have all we can do to get across before the snow comes." "All well enough to say ’step out,’" answered Bob gruffly. "Why couldn’t you stay overnight? I’m too tired to walk fast anyhow, snow or no snow." "Oh, you’re not tired, Bob. You’ve eaten a little too much supper, that’s all," rejoined Phil pleasantly. Bob vouchsafed no answer, and for some time the brothers tramped along in silence. As they neared the centre of the lake, the snow-flakes, which had at first been few and far between, thickened rapidly, and the wind at the same time rose into gusts that blew them sharply into the boys’ faces. A thrill of alarm shot threw Phil, and grasping Bob’s arm he called out,— "It looks nasty, Bob; let’s put on a spurt." At this appeal Bob roused himself; and quickening their pace to a trot, they hastened onward, their snow-shoes rising and falling in steady, unbroken step. Every minute the snow and wind increased, until at length the storm in full force burst upon the boys and almost blew them off their feet. All around them the air was filled with flakes of white whirling about in bewildering myriads, splashing like fine spray into their faces and stinging like small shot, for the wind was bitterly cold. Presently Phil halted, and, peering hard into the blinding storm, cried anxiously,— "What’s become of the lights, Bob? I can’t see them a bit; can you?" "N-n-no," panted Bob. "Let’s turn back." [Illustration: "THE FORMS OF THE TWO BOYS WERE EXPOSED TO VIEW."] "No use in that," replied Phil, turning round. "I can’t see those behind us either. There’s nothing for it but to push ahead." "O Phil! are we lost?" asked Bob, with quivering lips. Phil was more than half afraid they were; but to reassure Bob he answered cheerfully,—