“There’s the sled,” said Teddy, pointing to two runners sticking out of the snow and marking the spot where the sled had struck. “Wait here and I’ll get it.” Billie watched him as he struggled through the drifts, and suddenly she was aware of an overwhelming desire to sit down where she was and cry. “But that wouldn’t do any good,” she told herself sharply, “even if this place does look more lonely than a desert. If we don’t get where it’s warm pretty soon we’ll turn into icicles ourselves, I guess.” The wind had become stronger and more biting, and Billie’s teeth had begun to chatter. She was glad when Teddy floundered back to her, the rope of his sled looped over one arm. He slipped the other arm through hers protectingly. “We’ll find a way out of this soon,” he said, comfortingly. “You just watch your uncle Teddy.” Billie tried to laugh but she could not, her teeth were chattering so. “You said that before,” she told him hysterically. “And we—we—went over the cliff!” CHAPTER X—THE CAVE The next minute Billie was sorry for what she had said. Teddy’s face clouded over and he looked at her unhappily. “You ought to know that I didn’t get you into this on purpose,” he muttered. “Oh, Teddy, d-dear, I didn’t mean it, you know I d-didn’t,” she stammered, trying hard to control the chattering of her teeth. “I’m a bad, mean, horrid girl. T-truly I didn’t mean it,” and she put her cold little hand penitently over his great big one. “I know you didn’t,” said Teddy, his face clearing instantly. “You’re cold and tired and all upset. Poor little kid, I wish I could do all the _feeling_.” “Well, I’m glad you can’t,” said Billie, snuggling up close to him for warmth. “For you have troubles enough of your own. Teddy!” She drew up suddenly and stared at an object that caught her eye. “What is that thing over there that looks like a tangle of twigs and leaves? No, not that way. Over there—to the left.” Teddy followed the direction of her pointing finger and his face lighted up with excitement. The “tangle of twigs and branches,” as Billie had described it, was close to the side of the fifteen-foot “precipice” over which he and Billie had plunged a little while before. The fact that the branches were not covered with snow certainly looked as if they had been put there rather recently in a crude effort to hide the entrance to something—perhaps a cave. “That’s worth having a look at,” he said, jerking the sled up to him and tightening his hold on Billie’s arm. “Can you make it, Billie? The snow seems to be deeper over this way.” “Oh, I can make it all right,” answered Billie, stoutly, as she clenched her teeth and shut her eyes and floundered on through the clinging snow. “I guess I’ve got to make it!” she added, to herself. They had almost reached their goal when suddenly they stepped into a hole hidden by the snow and sank down in the icy whiteness until Billie was almost up to her neck.