After the work outside was finished, they had another meal, a dinner and supper combined, and then withdrew into the hut, where Pickles tried to liven up matters by playing his banjo and mouth harmonica and singing half-a-dozen songs. The boys joined in the chorus of the songs, and soon they were as gay as if the elements were perfect for the furtherance of their outing. “If we have to stay in to-morrow, I am going to try my hand at making some traps,” said Andy. “I want to trap something before we go back.” “So do I!” cried Boxy. “Pickles, you must put us in the way of this.” “I will, suah!” responded the colored youth. “My dad learned me all about traps when I was knee-high to a mosquito.” “I don’t know what you can trap here,” said Jack. “But it will do no harm to try your luck.” Before they went to bed they looked out, and found it snowing again, harder than ever. The wind was rising, too, causing the branches of the trees to creak ominously. “Supposing some of those branches should break off and come down on the top of the hut?” asked Boxy. “Wouldn’t we catch it?” “It would have to be a pretty big branch to do much damage,” replied Harry. “Jack and I saw to it that the poles were put up quite firmly.” “We don’t want to get smashed to bits while we are asleep.” “I doubt if the wind is yet high enough to break down very much. You must remember these trees are very tough, and, standing together, one protects another.” “But if the wind should blow stronger----” insisted Boxy. “It will wake us up, and we can be on our guard,” replied Harry, and there the subject was dropped. On account of the extreme cold, Pickles was very particular to keep a good fire, and for that purpose placed several small logs on the brush. “Yo’ see we don’t want for to wake up in de moahnin’ all froze to deth!” he explained. “Or so stiff that we’ll have to set each other up against the fire to thaw out,” laughed Boxy. “My! but it’s cold, eh?” “With so much snow it ought to get warmer,” grumbled Andy. “It will be warmer by to-morrow, I think,” said Jack. “We can thank our stars that we have such a comfortable shelter.” With a last look at the fire, Pickles retired to his corner of the hut. Soon the colored youth was snoring peacefully, and the sound made all of the others sleepy. One by one they lay down and rolled themselves in their blankets, Jack being the last to retire. How long he slept he never knew. He awakened with a sneeze and a cough, which did not come from the cold. He sat up and rubbed his eyes in a dazed way. What was the matter? Suddenly a puff of smoke nearly strangled him. The smoke was followed from the outside by a streak of flame! Then he realized what was the matter. The campfire had set fire to the hut! CHAPTER XXVIII. FIGHTING THE FLAMES. The instant that Jack realized that the hut was on fire he let out a cry that brought all of his companions to their feet at a bound. “What’s the matter?”