supply of gasoline on board?

Excitedly they attacked the piles of snow. Lacking shovels, they
worked with hands and feet. Hope grew with every kick and scoop. This
was no mere bit of timber, nor yet an abandoned shack; it was too
recently built to leave a doubt about that. And now they had reached
the top of the door.

"I say we've found it," panted Bruce, redoubling his efforts.

"Wait. Don't hope too much," gasped Barney, tossing aside snow like a dog
burrowing for a rabbit.

The door had a spring padlock on it. Barney, hurrying to the lake for
some pieces of ice, cracked the lock as he would a nut between stones.
Then, prying the door open a bit at the top, he tried to peer in.

"Dark," he muttered. "Can't see a thing."

Breathlessly they resumed work.

And now the door was free to the very bottom. It was Bruce's turn.
Forcing the door open a foot, he took one good look, then let out a
whoop.

"Gasoline!" he shouted. "Bedons of it!"

"May be empty," suggested Barney.

"I'll see," said Bruce. An instant more, and having crowded himself