The lantern had been turned low. Now Joe turned it up, while Joel Runnell kicked the fire into a blaze. In the meantime, Fred pulled both the blanket and the reptile from him, and cast them upon the floor. “Let me get at him,” said old Runnell, and he stepped into the sleeping room as the snake crawled from under the blanket and started across the floor for a hole in the corner. Bang! it was a hasty shot, and in that confined space it made the ears of all the boys ring. For the time being, the smoke was so thick nobody could see, and more than one began to cough. “Did you—you fetch him?” faltered Fred. He felt so weak in the lower limbs that he had to rest on the edge of a bunk for support. “Think I did,” was the laconic reply of the old hunter. He held the double-barreled gun ready for a second shot. But this was unnecessary, for as the smoke cleared away it was seen that the snake had been literally cut to pieces by the dose of shot. The tail still whipped over the floor, and, catching it up, the old hunter threw it on the back of the fire, and a moment later the head and the bits of body followed. “Was it a rattler?” questioned Harry. “No, it was only an ordinary everyday snake,” answered Joel Runnell. “I reckon the heat warmed him into life. But he scared you, didn’t he, Fred?” “Well-er—it wasn’t very pleasant,” answered the stout youth. “I don’t want another such bunkmate.” “I guess none of us do,” came from Joe. “Ugh! it makes one shiver to think of it.” “I’m going to search around for more,” said Harry, and took up the lantern. The others helped him, but no more snakes were to be found. As Joel Runnell had predicted, New Year’s day proved clear, and the bright sun, shining on the snow, was fairly dazzling. “We’ll go out after dinner,” said the old hunter. “The sun will soon make the top of the snow right for snow-shoeing,” and so it proved. The boys were anxious to try the snowshoes, or _skis_, as they are called in certain parts of the country. They had already tried them around the yard at home, with varying success. Joel Runnell was an expert in using them, and he gave them all the advice he deemed necessary. “Take your time, and make sure of what you are doing,” he said. “If you try to hurry at the start, you’ll surely take a tumble. Swiftness comes only with practice.” It had been decided that they should cross to the mainland on a hunt for deer. About two miles and a half away was a cove to which the deer came regularly at certain seasons of the year. This was known, however, to nobody but Joel Runnell, and he took good care to keep the fact to himself. An early dinner was had, and they started off about midday, after closing up the lodge and putting a wooden pin through the hasp of the door. A rough board was nailed over the open window, so that no wild animal might leap through to rummage their stores. “Now for a nice deer apiece!” exclaimed Joe, as they made their way to the lake shore.