Daylight found them still under the cliff. Their fitful naps of the
night just passed had only about half rested them and they did a good
deal of gaping as they stirred up the fire and prepared a morning
meal. Fortunately Shep had a pocket cup with him, and in that they had
to melt snow to get water to drink.

"Well, I am glad the night is over," declared Whopper. "I declare, I
don't want to pass another like it!"

"Let us be thankful that it was no worse," answered the doctor's son.
"Supposing we had not found this shelter, or supposing that match had
gone out, or supposing we hadn't shot the deer--"

"Stop, Shep! I am blue enough already. I'll tell you what it is: By
hook or by crook, we must get back to camp before to-night. If we
don't the others will be worried to death about us, I am sure."

"That's easy enough to say. But look at the snow."

Whopper looked beyond the shelter. The snow had stopped coming down
but it lay to the depth of several inches in some spots and in drifts
three and four feet high in others. He gave a sigh.

"Tough traveling and no mistake. Maybe we can't get through at all!"

"I know what I am going to do, first of all," said Shep. "I am going
to climb a tree on the top of the cliff and locate myself."

"That's a good idea."