CHAPTER XI.

  UNDER THE SNOWDRIFT.

  Hamp knew that his only hope lay in a clear head and a courageous heart.Already the air seemed to be more dense, and he felt a difficulty inbreathing.

  "One thing certain," he reflected, "I've got about a ghost of a chanceof striking either the cabin or the storehouse. If I try to tunnel awayfrom here, there's no telling where I may land. I've got twochances--either to stay here until Brick and Jerry come to rescue me, orto get my bearings by hearing them shout."

  The latter commended itself most favorably to Hamp. In spite of the riskof an avalanche, he put his hands to his lips and uttered a piercingyell.

  No reply.

  He waited, and tried again.

  Now, to his delight, he heard a faint cry. He was not quick enough tolocate it, so he shouted once more.

  A moment later the answering hail came, but, alas! he could not makesure in what direction.

  An agony of despair seized him, and he uttered cry after cry.

  Fatal mistake! The loud noise loosened the quivering masses of snow.Hamp felt the walls shake and heard the rustling glide. Throwing out hisarms, he fought his way upward through the descending avalanche. Thoughtwice beaten back, he gained an upright position. Had the snow been lesslight and powdery, he must have been crushed to the ground.

  He was now firmly on his feet, but in danger of suffocation. His headwas covered. The snow pressed against his mouth and nose. He gasped forbreath. He clutched and tore at the weight above him, swinging his armsfrom side to side. Then the powdery masses slipped to right and left,disclosing a funnel-shaped aperture, through which filtered a current ofcold air. Hamp uttered a cry of relief and made the opening larger. Thetop of the drift was about two feet above his head. He saw the circularpatch of murky gray sky through the driving storm. He felt the icyflakes dropping upon his cheeks, and heard the hoarse, deafening hum ofthe wind. The youth was in no present danger, but otherwise his positionwas not improved. He could not force a way onward through the drift, norcould he get his head high enough to see where he was.

  "It's no go," he muttered. "I'm stuck here like a pig in a poke. UnlessI keep mighty still, I'll have another avalanche from the surface."

  Just then he heard two lusty shouts, and the voices seemed to come fromstraight in front of him.

  "Hurrah!" he yelled. "Brick! Jerry!"

  The response quickly floated back, and at the same instant the winddrove a stinging shower of fine snow into his face.

  Hamp wiped the snow off, and was about to utter another shout when heheard a shrill crackling above the din of the storm. As he staredupward he saw the disk of open air suddenly eclipsed by a sheet ofblackness. More from instinct than logic, Hamp divined what this meant.Quick as a flash he dived downward with arms and head, and sought toburrow under the drift.

  He was none too quick. He heard a dull crash, and felt himself seized bysome mighty force and driven roughly against the very ground. There wasa considerable weight of loose snow upon him, and when he had beaten itaway from his face, his outstretched hands caught hold of something thatwas solid, but prickly and yielding.

  He recognized it as the branch of a pine tree. Then he twisted about andthrust his hands down toward his middle. Here he found the trunk of thetree, resting with no little weight upon his thighs.

  No bones were broken, nor was he even badly bruised. But, nevertheless,he was pinned fast. He lay partly on one side, with his head turned inthe direction whence the voices of his friends had come.

  The canopy of branches above admitted plenty of fresh air, and there wasquite an open gap in front of his face. He made a strong effort to draghimself free, but stopped as soon as he found masses of snow droppingdown upon him. Then he shouted several times, and heard a faintresponse. The cries continued at intervals, and now they actually seemedto be coming closer.

  "Brick and Jerry are tunneling this way," said Hamp, to himself. "Iwonder if they will succeed in reaching me. I didn't tell them how I wasgoing to dig. I only hope they won't get in the same fix that I was ina few minutes ago."

  The chance of rescue--slim though it was--cheered him considerably, andgave him patience. He lay quite still, shouting from time to time. Therewere no longer any responses, but he concluded that the boys were afraidto shout for fear of a cave-in.

  Twenty minutes of thrilling suspense slipped away. Then he heard a dull,muffled sound, and a moment later a mass of snow dropped upon his face.He threw out his hands and caught hold of a human arm.

  "Brick! Jerry!" he shouted, with delight.

  "We're here, old boy," replied Jerry's familiar voice. "Are you hurt?"

  "Not a bit. I'm pinned fast, though."

  "Well, we'll soon have you out. Brick and I thought you were a goner forsure when that tree fell. The crash sounded just where your voice was."

  "It was a close call," replied Hamp. "But how did you get here sosoon."

  "Why, by your tunnel," said Jerry. "It was open a foot beyond thatstone. We dug mighty carefully the rest of the way. That's what kept usso long."

  "And now how are we going to get you free?" added Brick.

  "I'll tell you," replied Hamp. "In the first place, make the passagewide enough for both of you to kneel side by side."

  "It's wide enough now," declared Jerry. "We came through in doublefile."

  "Then take hold of my hands and pull."

  The boys followed instructions, and by a long, steady haul they drewHamp from under the trunk of the tree.

  "There, that will do," he cried, as he sat up. "Thank goodness, I cankick as spry as ever. My trousers are torn, but I don't believe I have ascratch. I wouldn't go through this over again for a fortune."

  He briefly told the boys his thrilling story, and it made them feelrather shivery.

  "We had better go back while the way is open," said Brick. "It will begood-by if we are caught by a cave-in."

  "I hate to give up," muttered Hamp, doggedly. "I Started for thestorehouse, and I want to reach it."

  "But that tree is right in the road now," declared Jerry. "Thestorehouse is on the other side of it. We can't get through, and it willbe a risky thing to try to tunnel around it."

  Hamp was not satisfied until he had crawled forward several feet. Then aperfect network of interlacing branches drove him reluctantly back.

  "I thought so," said Jerry. "There is only one thing to do, fellows. Wemust return to the cabin and wait until morning. By then the storm maybe over. At any rate, the snow will be more solid and compact, and won'tcave in so easily. We will be able to make a tunnel clear around thetree, and get at the storehouse from the lower side."

  This was sound logic, and as no one could suggest a better plan, theboys started despondently back through the tunnel, crawling in singlefile.

  They reached the end without mishap, and were heartily glad to findthemselves in the snug shelter of the cabin once more.

  Brick looked at his watch and wound it up. It was just half-past eighto'clock in the evening. Of course, the boys were not sleepy, and itlooked as though they would have to turn night into day. They weresavagely hungry, and longingly eyed the cartridge box that held thescanty remnants of their supper. But they put the temptation aside withstern fortitude, knowing that greater need would come with the morning.

  All hands prudently exchanged their damp clothes for dry ones, and thenhuddled together under blankets in a corner of the cabin.

  It was four o'clock when the boys finally dropped off to sleep, overcomemore by mental than physical exhaustion. They rested soundly, and awoketo find that another day had dawned--dawned hours before, for Brick'swatch indicated eleven o'clock. The hands could be barely seen by themeager gray light that filtered through a crevice in the roof.

  The storm was over--the wind, part of it, at least. The silence wasoppressive. Evidently the drifted snow was piled many feet above thecabin. What scanty light penetrated to the boys filt
ered through theoutspreading branches of the fallen pine.