“That isn’t so bad,” remarked Tom. “Once we have a little feed, we’ll all feel better. And in the morning the storm may have stopped, so we can easily find our road. We’re on the right one, I’m sure, for that signboard said seven miles to Ramsen, and that’s in the direction of Camp No. 3.” If Tom had only known about that changed signboard! Each of the lads carried a powerful electric light, with a tungsten bulb. It was operated by a small, dry battery. It was intended only for a flashing light, of a second or so each time, but there was a switch arrangement so that the light could be held steady and permanent, though of course this used up the battery quickly. “I’ll let my light burn,” proposed Tom. “It’s nearly burned out anyhow, and you fellows can save yours until later.” “If we could have a fire, we wouldn’t need a light,” Bert said. “That’s right,” agreed Tom. “Let’s look about a bit.” There was a hearth in the main room of the deserted cabin, and on it were the ashes of a fire, long since dead and cold. But it seemed to show that the chimney would draw. Scattered about the room were pieces of old boxes and barrel staves, and a pile of these was soon set ablaze on the hearth. “That looks better!” remarked Bert, with satisfaction, as he rubbed his hands in front of the blaze. “Now if we had a way of stopping up some of these broken windows, we wouldn’t be so cold.” “Take some of those bags,” suggested Tom, indicating a pile in a corner. It looked like the bed of some chance tramp who had accepted the shelter the deserted shack offered. The boys soon had the broken lights filled in, and when the tumble-down door had been propped up in the entrance, the cabin was not such a bad shelter, with a blazing fire going. “Now for a look upstairs,” suggested Tom, for the cabin was of two stories, though the top one was very low. “I’d rather eat,” suggested George. “It won’t take long to investigate,” Tom said. They went up the rickety stairs, but the trip hardly paid for their pains, for there was less upstairs than there was down. Some few rags, bits of broken bottles, boxes and barrels were seen, and that was all. “And now for grub!” cried George, when they were once more in the main room downstairs. “Let’s get that coffee going, and eat what there is.” The boys carried a coffee-pot with them, and a supply of the ground berries. Some snow was scooped up in the pot, which was set on the coals to provide the necessary water by melting the white crystals. Then the packages of sandwiches, rather depleted, it is true, were set out. A little later the aroma of the boiling beverage filled the room. “That smells fine!” murmured Jack. “It surely does,” agreed Bert. “Now for a feed.”