As the boy spoke, he lifted a hand to his face and raised the net
which protected his features from the mosquitos, still flying
about, although the night, apparently, was cold enough to freeze
their wings stiff.

"They won't bother you much more," Thede commented.

"How do you know that?"

"Because there's a snow storm coming up!"

"Then we'd better be getting a move on!" advised George. "If we
get caught up here in a snow storm, it'll be 'Good-night' for us!"

"We're going as fast as we can," replied Thede, "but I don't know
whether we're going in the right direction or not. It seems like
we've walked far enough to be at the camp."

In five minutes the searchlight revealed a drift of snow in the
air, and ten minutes later the ground was white. A cold wind blew
out of the north, shifting at times to the west, and the boys
shivered under the chill of it. Still no welcome light from the
camp.

"Can you find your way back to the cabin?" asked George after they
had walked at least an hour.

"We've got to find our way somewhere pretty soon!" the other
replied. "If we don't, we'll freeze to death!"