Then Miss Grey began her story, hoping to make the children forget their hunger. She took her cue from Harry's bear story and added harrowing incidents and thrilling experiences, as many as she could think of, trying to remember some of the stories of adventure she had read. When the children got tired and began to be restless, she brought out her next resource: she proposed a game, and in a few minutes the whole school was romping and shouting and enjoying the novelty of a real play in the schoolroom. When at last they sat down warm and breathless, she began again. This time she sang them some songs; some that she remembered her mother singing to her in the nursery. But she found this a rather dangerous experiment, for the thought of that happy time contrasted with the anxieties of this, with a dozen frightened children on her hands, cut off from all the world, nearly overcame her. But she rallied again, and this time proposed a song that all could sing. After that she told another story, making it as long and as stirring as she possibly could. By this time it was quite dark so that the stove-door was left open to give a little light, and the younger ones began to cry quietly with sleepiness. All the children were sent to the hall to bring their wraps, and then beginning with the smallest, they were all put to bed on the benches. These benches, fortunately, had backs, and by putting two of them face to face they made a bed, which, if hard and cheerless, would certainly keep them from falling out. When the last one had been made as comfortable as could be done under the circumstances, Miss Grey sang several rather sleepy verses, and when long breathing announced the sleep of some, she sank back in her chair exhausted. "I'll keep the fire going, Miss Grey," said her gallant helper, Harry. "You try to sleep, or at least to rest." "Indeed, Harry, I couldn't sleep if I tried. You know about these storms--how long do they usually last? Do you suppose some one will come for us?" "Why, Miss Grey," said Harry, "I suppose every man in the village is out now trying to get to us--surely every man who has a child in school." "I suppose every mother is half crazy," said Miss Grey. "No doubt she is," said Harry. Now when all was quiet inside the room, Miss Grey had leisure to listen to the rage of the elements outside. How the savage wind roared and beat upon the lonely little building as if it would tear it to pieces and scatter its ruins over the pitiless prairie; how the icy storm beat against the staring great windows as if in its fury it would crash them in and bury them all. It was fearful, and Miss Grey, unused to storms of such violence, shuddered as she listened. "Harry," she whispered with white lips, "isn't this the worst storm you ever knew? It seems as if it must blow the house down." "No," said Harry, "I think they're all about alike. I was caught out in one once." "Were you? Did you get lost?"