Part 38 (2/2)

Outside they could hear axes ringing against the trees. Then the dinner-horn called the men in. Soon after the meal was over all the horses in camp were hitched and employed in bringing in the wood. Harry was out again to superintend the men.

By half-past two the first big flakes began to come down. There was still no wind to speak of.

Tom had lain down in a bunk, leaving Jim to brighten the fire.

Ferrers, too, nodded in his chair. It was the howling of the wind that awoke Tom.

”Where's Harry?” he asked, sitting up.

”Eh?” queried! Ferrers, opening his eyes.

”Where's Harry! Is he out in this storm?”

”I've been dozing,” Jim confessed. ”I don't know where he is.”

”Hear the wind howl,” cried Tom, leaping from his bunk and pulling on his shoes. Then he rapidly finished dressing, Jim, in the meantime, lighting the reflector lamp.

”Where on earth can Harry be?” Tom again demanded.

”Maybe in one of the other shacks, with some of the men.”

Tom threw open the door. The snow-laden gale, sweeping in on him, nearly took away his breath. Then, after filling his lungs, he started resolutely for the nearest shack.

”Mr. Hazelton in here?” Tom called, swinging open the door.

”No, sir; thought he was with you.”

Tom fought his way through the gale to the next shack. Here Tim Walsh had news.

”We came in, sir, when the blizzard got too bad,” Walsh explained, ”but we found we'd left one of the teams behind in the woods.

Mr. Hazelton said he'd go back and get the team. Half an hour later one of the boys here noticed that the team was standing up against the door of the stable shack. So I went out and put up the team.”

”Didn't it occur to you to wonder where Mr. Hazelton was?” Tom asked, rather sharply.

”Why, no, sir; we thought he had gone to your shack.”

”Mr. Hazelton wouldn't leave horses out in a storm like this one,”

Tom rapped out briskly. ”As a matter of fact he isn't in camp.

You men get out lanterns and be ready to go into the woods.

We've got to find Mr. Hazelton at the earliest possible moment!”

Twenty minutes later the beams of light from lanterns carried by the men revealed the form of Harry Hazelton, in the woods and nearly covered with snow.

”Pick him up,” ordered Tom. ”Make the fastest time you can to our shack.”

In the shack the fire was allowed to burn low. Harry, still unconscious, was stripped and put to bed.

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