It was a strange experience to all of them, and it is doubtful if any of them slept, saving by fits and starts, until toward morning. The fight with the snakes was still in their minds, and, as Boxy aptly put it, “they could see snakes just as plainly as if they had been off on a spree.” Pickles was the first to stir himself in the morning, while it was yet dark. The colored boy sat up, and, seeing his companions still slumbering, decided to go out, start up the fire and begin preparing breakfast without disturbing them. He arose to his feet, and, throwing down his blanket, stepped over to the entrance to the hut. Then a low cry of surprise escaped him, a cry that made all of the others open their eyes. “What’s the matter?” cried Harry. “It’s dun gone an’ snowed de fiah cl’ar out ob sight!” returned Pickles. “Snowed the fire out of sight is good,” laughed Boxy. “Well, let’s hustle and shovel it in sight again, for it’s as cold as the North Pole in here!” “And it’s colder yet outside,” replied Jack, looking out of the doorway Pickles had opened. “The snow is coming down lively, boys, and we must lose no time if we want to get across the lake and settle down.” Every one was soon outside, Boxy and Andy with their blankets still drawn around them. Both were used to sleeping in heated bedrooms, and the cold seemed to pierce them to the very marrow of their bones. “Hustle around to start up the fire, and that will warm you up,” suggested Harry. “Come, everybody pitch in, for it’s half-past seven, and we want to be on our way by eight o’clock, or a little after.” They did pitch in with a will. While Pickles, Boxy, and Andy started up a big, lively blaze, and got together something to eat, Jack and Harry took down the blankets and packed the things on the sled. Presently Pickles slipped off down to the lake, taking the ax and a spear with him. “He’s gone to spear a pickerel or some other fish,” said Boxy, and he was right, for it was not long before the colored boy returned with a beauty, weighing all of a pound and a half, which was soon broiling over the flames. It was still snowing, and the boys had to fairly brush the flakes from what they were eating during the meal. Jack calculated that already three inches had fallen on the level. “And before night we’ll have a foot or two of it unless it clears off,” he added. “So be lively, fellows!” “Can we skate over the lake?” questioned Andy. “That would be much easier than walking.” “Yo’ can skate ober all right,” replied Pickles. “De wind has dun kept mos’ ob it cl’ar, ’ceptin’ in spots.” “Oh, but this is fine fish!” cried Boxy. “Pickles, you mustn’t forget that you promised to show me how to spear them.” “So I will, when we gits ober to de reg’lar camp,” replied the colored youth, smiling broadly at the praise bestowed.