They threw back the snow until they made a den against the cliff, and the three, wrapped from head to foot in their heavy blankets, crouched in it close together. The snow fell upon the blankets, and, at times, when it lay too thick, they threw it all off. Billy seemed perfectly contented. Either he had no awe of the wilderness, or the presence of the others was enough for him. He had all the quietness and taciturnity of a little Indian lad. He did not speak at all, and did not move. By and by his eyes closed and he slept soundly. Arenberg drew the blanket a little more closely, until only the mouth and nose showed from the blanket, his breath making a white rim around the aperture. Then Arenberg said in a whisper to Phil: "Young Herr Philip, you have helped me to get back my own. I cannot repay you." "I am repaying _you_," said Phil. "You have _already_ helped me." After that they did not speak for a long time. The snow became lighter and lighter, then it ceased entirely. The horses were quiet in the shelter of the trees, and Phil was so snug and warm that he fell into a beautiful sleep, from which he was aroused by Arenberg. "It iss day, Herr Philip," he said. "Look how the sun shines on the snow." Phil drew himself out of the hole and looked at a white world, tinted silver in the early dawn. "Yes, it is time for us to go," he said. "Wake Billy, and we’ll ride." But Billy was already awake, his small face illumined with curiosity and interest. "Now we will ride," he said to Phil, "and see the men of whom you have told me." They had some food left, and, after eating it to the last particle, they mounted their horses and rode with as much speed as was wise in the deep snow. Both Phil and Arenberg had an excellent idea of direction, and, guided by the sun, they rode straight toward The Silver Cup. But the snow was so deep and heavy that they were compelled to stop often to let their horses rest, and nearly a whole day passed before they saw the familiar trees and slopes that marked the approach to The Silver Cup. It was a glad sight. They were thoroughly exhausted with a day of plowing through the snow, and the horses were in the same condition. A trace of smoke marked the point at which The Dip lay. "They’re at home to callers, or at least one of them is," said Phil, "and I’ll be glad to be on the inside of that hut again, with real red coals before me on a stone hearth." In order to give the horses an equal chance, Billy, through the day, had ridden alternately behind Phil and his father. Now he was behind Arenberg, and he leaned forward eagerly to see. Before him lay a sort of path trampled in the snow, and, suddenly leaping from the horse, he ran forward with the agility and speed of a deer.