In the thick blackness of the storm the man groped blindly near the snow-choked entrance to the den, guided in his search for the dead tree by the voice of the boy from the interior. It was no easy task to twist off the dead limbs and carry them one by one to the cavern where the boy piled them against the wall. At length, however, it was accomplished, and Bill crept in and whittled a pile of fine shavings. A few minutes later the flicker of a tiny flame flashed up, the shavings ignited, and the narrow cavity lighted to the crackle of the fire. Together they skinned the rabbit which the dead lynx had dropped, and soon they were busily engaged in roasting it over the flames. The two were far from comfortable. Despite the fact that the fire had been built as near as possible to the entrance, the smoke whipped back into their faces. The air became blue and heavy, they coughed, and tears streamed from their eyes at the sting of it. "I'm thirsty," said the boy, as he finished his portion of the rabbit. "I guess we'll have to eat snow; there's nothing to melt it in." "Never eat snow," the man cautioned as his eyes swept the barren interior. "Why not?" "It will burn you out. I don't know why, but when a man starts eating snow, it's all off." Directly in front of him, in the rock floor, was a slight depression, and with a stick Bill scraped the fire close to this natural basin and filled it with dry snow. At the end of ten minutes the snow had melted, leaving a pool of filthy, black water. "It's the best we can do," laughed the man as the boy made a wry face as he gulped down a swallow of the bitter floor-washing. They set about skinning the _loup-cervier_, and spread the pelt upon the floor for a robe. "We'll have to tackle the cat for breakfast," grinned Bill. "Oh, this is fun!" cried the boy. "It's like getting cast away and living in a cave, like you read about." But the humor of the situation failed to enthuse Bill, who lighted his pipe and stared moodily into the tiny fire. The two spent a most uncomfortable night, their brief snatches of sleep being interrupted by long hours of wakefulness when they huddled close to the small blaze. The scarcity of wood and the danger of suffocation precluded the building of an adequate fire, and the miserable night wore interminably upon the nerves of the imprisoned pair. At last the dull gray light of morning dispersed the gloom, and the two crept to the snow-choked door. The storm raged unabated, and their eyes could not penetrate the opaque whiteness of the powdery snow. Bill gathered more firewood, cut up the lynx, and roasted the hams, shoulders, and back. The meat was dry and stringy, with a disagreeable, strong flavor that savored intimately of the rancid odor of the den. Nevertheless, they devoured a great quantity of the tough, unpalatable food, washing it down with bitter drafts from the pool of dirty snow-water, thick with ashes and the pungent animal reek.