Tom was a boy of great courage. He thought for a little, and then he
said: "Frank, if you can carry Pansy I'm sure I can manage Ara; and we
will try to find shelter somewhere till the storm is blown over."

So on again in this way they struggled, till, more dead than alive, they
found, by good luck, the welcome shelter of a cave. The cave was by no
means large, but they were surprised to find it so warm. The first thing,
however, that Tom did was to walk all round the inside, rifle in hand.
Tom had not been two years at sea for nothing. Meanwhile, where was
Flossy, and where was Briton?

Tom whistled again and again, till he said he had nearly whistled the
whites of his eyes out, but never a dog replied.

Something else had begun to whistle also, and that was the wind, and
although Tom made several attempts to leave the cave, to have a look at
the weather as he called it, he found it impossible to stand. Hours and
hours passed away like this, and the tempest seemed only to increase in
force.

They were all very hungry now, and so Tom shared out some biscuits he had
brought with him, and after they had swallowed a little snow they all sat
down to talk.

"I fear," said Tom, "we'll have to stay here all night. It will be good
fun, won't it, girls?"

He knew it was anything but fun himself, but he spoke in that way to keep
up the children's courage.