The fire had burned a trifle low during the talk, but now Jack and Harry replenished it, and soon the cave-like shelter was as warm as toast. In the meantime the snow came down as thickly as ever outside, and the wind whistled merrily through the brush and trees around and above them. A doubtful look came into Harry’s face as he listened to it. “What time is it, Jack?” he asked. “Nearly five o’clock.” “Can we make camp before it gets too dark?” “It will be hard work. But once on the creek the darkness ought not to bother us. But what of these fellows?” Jack continued, in a low tone. “We can’t leave them behind.” “And we can’t very well take them along,” said Harry. “If it wasn’t for the others wondering what had become of us, we might stay here over night and go back in the morning,” Jack went on, after a thoughtful pause. “This seems a very good place to roost.” “But the others would think we had missed our way in the snow and got lost, and they would worry themselves sick. We said nothing about remaining away over night,” replied Harry. “We might leave these fellows here until to-morrow, and then come back and show them the way,” Jack suggested. “Don’t leave us alone, please don’t!” cried Spencer, who was the greatest coward of the party. “Take us with you!” “You are not strong enough to walk to our camp,” said Harry. “You would play out before you got half-way.” “Well, don’t leave us, that’s good fellows,” said Dixon. “One of us might stay and the other might go back,” suggested Harry. “And then in the morning the party from here could start down the creek.” “That’s so,” put in Sully, eagerly. “One of you stay, and leave some of the grub behind.” The matter was talked over a few minutes longer, and then it was decided that this plan should be followed. A cent was tossed up to see who should undertake the immediate return to the camp on the creek, and the lot fell to Harry. He left all the game behind but two of the wild turkeys, and five minutes later had disappeared in the swirling snow beyond the shelter of the cliff. CHAPTER XXXII. LAST OF THE WILDCAT. Harry knew that he had no easy task before him, yet he started out with a brave heart, resolved to cover the distance to the camp as quickly as possible. Knowing how great was the force of the wind, he buttoned his overcoat tightly about him and strapped his game-bag and gun to his person in such a way that they could not be lost, no matter how many tumbles and plunges in the immense snowdrifts were taken. “If I move right along I ought to strike camp by seven or half-past,” he murmured to himself, as he struck out for the creek. “Ugh! but this is beastly!” The first blast around the edge of the shelter nearly threw him flat on his back, so strong was it. The hard snow was dashed into his face as if it was sand thrown by a shovel in the hands of a laborer. He gasped in spite of himself.