The wind rose, and the snow began to come down again. Several times we had to push it back from the entrance to our shelter. The branches and thatch shook with every gust. Hours passed, and we were both hungry, but twice Tim lost matches trying to start a fire, so we gave up and gnawed on the few cooked rations we had left.

When day came, it was dark and overcast and the air was filled with swirling snow.

“I think we’re in a blizzard,” said Tim.

“It will blow over,” I said. But inside, I was terrified. I knew that such storms could last for days. If this one did, we were in trouble. We could be frozen to death. We huddled together and tried to cheer each other up.

“You’re not a bad chum, for a girl,” Tim said. But I started crying, thinking of my father and of all the dangers we had faced and yet had to face.

When the wind let up a little, Tim said, “Maybe I can find some dry wood.”

“You stay right here,” I said. “If you got out in that storm, you’ll get turned around and I’ll never see you again.”

The day passed slowly and night came. Only the wind increased. Perhaps the heavy snowfall helped us, for as it piled up around our shelter it helped to cut the wind. But it was cold; and closely as Tim and I huddled in our blankets, we were still chilled to the bone. I don’t think either of us got much sleep that night.

There was nothing we could do but wait and hope. If the storm blew itself out before we were too far gone, we might be able to dig out and set up a livable camp or find a way across the nearby lake. If it went on too long, we would either die or else be so weak that we could not forage for ourselves afterward.

Near dawn, it seemed as if the howl of the wind died somewhat, and I dozed a little.

When I woke the sun was shining. Somehow Tim had managed to get a tiny fire going and was melting snow in a pot.

“The storm is over,” he said.

“Good, maybe you can get—”

“Some spruce needles,” he said, grinning. “I already did.”

I leaned forward and impulsively kissed his cheek. He made a groaning sound, but I could tell that he was pleased.

We made tea and got warm. It was one of the best mornings during that ordeal.

Late in the morning we plunged out into the snow to take our bearings. It was about two feet deep, except where it had drifted, piled by the wind into huge slopes that were shoulder high. It was hard going. I despaired of setting out on our trail again and forcing our way through the drifts.

Tim, meanwhile, had climbed up to a small ridge where he stopped and stood, looking down toward the lake. He turned and waved to me.