The wind wheezed above them, the darkness fell with the snow. Beyond the glow of the pile of coals on the rocky ledge, the curtain of snow looked gray—then drab—then actually black. Moon and stars were far, far away; none of their light percolated through the mass of clouds and falling snow that mantled these big wastes of the backwoods.
"Oh! I never realized anything could be so lonely," whispered Helen in Ruth's ear.
"And how worried your father and Mrs. Murchiston will be," returned her chum. "Of course, we shall get out of it all right, Helen; but did you ever suppose so much snow could fall at one time?"
"Never!"
"And no sign of it holding up at all," said Madge, who had overheard.
"Sh! Belle and Lluella have curled up here and gone to sleep," said Helen.
"Lucky Infants," observed Madge.
"I'm going to sleep, too," said Heavy, with a yawn.
"There is no danger now. We're as warm as can be here," Ruth said. "Why don't you take a nap, Helen? Madge and I will keep the first watch—and keep the fire burning."
"Suppose there should be wolves—or bears," whispered Helen.
