“I suppose our folks will worry about us,” put in Harry. “It’s too bad they don’t know we are safe.” The remainder of the day passed slowly. Harry had brought along a small measure of corn for popping, and they amused themselves by popping this over the fire, salting and eating it. Joel Runnell also told them a hunting story, which all enjoyed. The next day the snow continued, and on the day following the wind again arose, sending the drifts higher than ever. Thus a Sunday was passed in the shelter. It was not until Tuesday noon that the storm passed away as if by magic, and the sun came out brightly. “Hurrah! it’s over at last, thank goodness!” cried Harry, as he leaped outdoors. “My! but doesn’t it feel good to see the sun once more!” “That’s all right,” returned Fred. “But if we aren’t snowed in we are next door to it.” “The sun will make the snow just right for snowshoe walking,” said Joe. “And we ought to be able to track down some sort of game without half trying.” They found the pines above the shelter fairly groaning with their weight of snow. But back of these the ground was swept almost bare. “I’m going to see how the lodge looks,” said Joe, and started off. Equally curious, the others followed him. They found Snow Lodge true to its name. It was snowed in completely, only a small portion of the roof, an upper corner of one window, and the rough chimney being visible. “Skeetles and Marcy are prisoners of the storm,” said Harry, with a grin. “Let’s give ’em a salute.” He made a snowball and threw it at the corner of the window, which was open to admit the air. His aim was true, and the snow went through the opening, followed by balls thrown by Joe and Fred. An instant later Hiram Skeetles’ face appeared, full of alarm, which quickly changed to rage. “Hi, you, stop that!” he roared. “Stop it, I say!” “How are you feeling to-day?” questioned Joe, coolly. “We thought we’d come over and give you a call.” “Don’t throw any more snowballs. One hit me right in the chin.” “And one hit me on the top of the head,” put in Marcy, who stood behind the real estate dealer. “What do you mean by staying around this island after I ordered you away?” went on Hiram Skeetles, after a pause. “Did you expect us to do any traveling in this storm?” asked Joel Runnell, in return. “How far do you think you could travel, Mr. Skeetles?” asked Fred. “The snow in some places is ten and twelve feet deep.” “Say, is it really as deep as that?” came from Dan Marcy, in deep concern. “Yes, every bit of it.” “Then we are booked to stay here for several days longer,” said the bully to the real estate dealer. “And I must say I am dog-tired of nothing but deer meat to eat.” Marcy said this because all of the stores taken from the other party were gone, even to the coffee and salt pork. As Harry had surmised, they now had nothing but the deer meat, and the best of this was gone. “Where are you stopping?” questioned Hiram Skeetles, after another pause.