Hal was willing to swear that he had not been asleep more than ten minutes when he was awakened¹ by the beating of a pan with a stick and Pat's roar of "Breakfast! All hands out for breakfast!" He rolled over sleepily so as to look out. Pat was laughing at him. Beyond the firelight and from the tiny strip of sky above the dark tree tops he could see a few pale stars blinking at him weakly.  
"Aw, Pat, that's no joke. You may think it's funny, but it isn't," he growled², and there was a note of real anger this time.
 
"What?" demanded Pat with a deep throaty chuckle³.
 
"You know what—waking a feller up when he's just got to sleep and is dead tired and got a hard day coming!" flared⁴ Hal.
 
"Aisy, aisy, son! Do ye think I would be frying bacon in the middle of the night for a joke? 'Tis meself has been up this good hour and 'tis six o'clock this very minute. 'Twill be daylight by the toime we be ready to start," returned Pat good-humoredly.
 
Hal had it on the tip of his tongue to say that he didn't believe it, but by this time he was sufficiently⁵ awake to smell the bacon and hear it sizzle and sputter⁶ in the pan. Moreover, his companions were already kicking off their blankets, and he had the good sense to realize that Pat meant just what he said. Still, it was hard to believe, and it was not until he had reached for his watch that he was convinced that it really was time to prepare for another day's tramp. Then he hastily crawled from his blankets, his good humor fully⁷ restored, for Hal was a good sport, and there was nothing of the shirk about him.
 
"I beg pardon, Pat," said he, as he joined the two shivering figures crowding as close to the fire as they could comfortably get while they watched Pat stir up the pancake batter⁸. "I honestly thought you were up to one of your old tricks and putting something across on us. Doesn't seem as if I'd more than closed my eyes. Phew! but it's cold!"
 
It was. It was the hour just before the break of day when, perhaps because the blood has not yet begun to circulate freely, the cold seems to have reached its maximum of strength. Beyond the narrow radius⁹ of the glow from the fire it seemed to fairly bite to the bone.
 
"Get busy with the axe¹⁰ and you'll forget it," advised Pat, adding, "It is the courtesy of the woods to leave a little wood ready for the next fellow who may hit camp late, as we did yesterday. You'll have just about time enough to get warmed up before these flapjacks are ready."
 
"Good idea!" cried Walter, seizing an axe. "Come on, you fellows! Sparrer can lug¹¹ it in as we split it."
 
At the end of ten minutes Pat called them to eat, and by that time they had forgotten the cold, for they were in a warm glow from exercise.
 
"I'll bet it was cold in the night," said Upton as they sat down to bacon, flapjacks and hot chocolate.
 
"Right you are, my boy," replied Pat. "When I got up the second time it was cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass¹² monkey."
 
"When you got up the second time! What in the dickens were you up for?" exclaimed Hal.
 
"To kape yez from freezing to death," grinned Pat. "Did yez think the fire would feed itself?"
 
"I didn't think anything about it," confessed Hal. "Gee¹³, it must have been cold when you crawled out to start things this morning! Makes me shiver to think of it. I guess the rest of us are the lucky little boys to have everything started for us and a ripping good fire going before we turned out. Do you always get up before daylight in the woods, Pat?"
 
"Sure," replied Pat. "It's nothing when you're used to it. Most trappers are on the trail by break of day. The days are all too short in winter, anyway, especially when you've got a long trap line to work over. I expect Alec is on the line now. He'll be trying to get through early to-day so as to have things ready for us when we reach the cabin. It's going to be a stiff pull to-day for you fellows, and the sooner we get started the better."
 
As soon as breakfast was finished the toboggan was packed, the brush piled once more in front of the lean-to and the fire put out by the simple process of throwing snow on it. The cold light of the stars had given way to the colder gray of the dawn as they once more slipped on the shoes and hit the trail around Little Goose Pond. It was then that the three novices¹⁴ realized that they were indeed tenderfeet. They had not gone half a mile before it seemed as if every muscle from their thighs¹⁵ down was making individual and vigorous protest. But they were game, and if Pat guessed their feelings it was not from any word which they let drop.
 
Gradually the stiffness wore off, and at the end of a couple of hours they were traveling with some degree of comfort. Pat purposely set an easy pace for the first few miles and he kept a watchful¹⁶ eye on Sparrer, for whom he felt personally responsible. As a matter of fact the youngster was standing¹⁷ it even better than the other two. For one thing, he was considerably¹⁸ lighter¹⁹, and his shoes bore him up better than was the case with his companions. In places where the snow was packed he did not sink in at all, whereas the others broke through slightly, and on soft snow he did not begin to sink as far as they did. Of course this meant far less strain on his muscles, and greater ease in walking.
 
As they rounded the end of the pond Pat pointed²⁰ out the place where he had been mistaken for a deer by two city boys and got a bullet through his hat. A little beyond this point they saw the first sign of life since they had entered the woods, the tracks of a hare or snow-shoe rabbit, and with them other tracks which at first glance all but Pat mistook for those of another rabbit.
 
"You fellows wait here a minute," said he and followed the trail into a thicket²¹ of young hemlocks²². A few minutes later he called to them to join him. They found him at the farther side of the thicket. At his feet the snow had been considerably disturbed, and there were some blood-stains and torn scraps²³ of white fur. Beyond a single trail led to the foot of a tree and there ended.
 
"Marten," explained Pat briefly²⁴ in response to the looks of inquiry²⁵. "He ran Mr. Longlegs down here, ate his dinner and took to the trees. I've had a hunch²⁶ that there were marten in this neck of woods, but haven't had a chance to trap them yet."
 
Later they put up a flock of spruce grouse²⁷, but it was out of season and the boys had too much respect for the spirit as well as the letter of the law to be even tempted²⁸ to shoot. After the noon lunch Pat quickened the pace somewhat. The temperature had moderated rapidly and the sky was overcast²⁹. "It's a weather breeder, and we're in for more snow," said Pat as he scanned the sky with some appearance of anxiety. "I don't like the looks of it. We want to reach the cabin before the storm breaks, and we've got to hit it up faster in order to do it. How are your legs?"
 
"Still doing business," replied Hal. "The stiffness is out, but I guess I won't object to reaching that little old cabin. How about you, Walt?"
 
"Same here," replied Upton. "I'm game for the rest of the distance, but the cabin will look good to me, all right, all right. Hope Alec will have dinner ready. I've no sooner eaten than I'm hungry again."
 
"My tummy, oh, my tummy!"
began Hal, but Pat cut him short with the order to fall in, and started off at a pace which left Hal no breath to waste on doggerel³⁰. They now buckled³¹ down to the trail in earnest. Pat's fears proved well grounded, for they were still some three miles from the cabin when the first needle-like particles began to hiss³² through trees and sting their faces. By the time they entered the pass to Smugglers' Hollow the tracks of Big Jim had been entirely³³ obliterated³⁴ and Pat was holding the trail by the blazed trees, a feat³⁵ by no means easy because of the difficulty of looking ahead in the face of the storm.
 
In the narrow pass they stopped for a few minutes for a breathing spell. There the force of the storm was broken, but when they emerged into the Hollow they found that they must force their way into the very teeth of it. The wind had risen, and it drove the fine icy particles with a force that almost cut the exposed skin. The blinding cloud swirled³⁶ about them and completely hid their surroundings. Pat, in the lead, partly broke the force of the storm for those behind. It seemed to them as if he must be going by blind instinct, but if he was he had a dogged confidence that was at least reassuring³⁸. At last when it seemed to the three city lads that they simply could not push on another foot Pat stopped and raised a warning hand. "Listen!" said he.
 
With straining ears they listened, but for a couple of minutes heard nothing. Then seemingly out of the heart of the storm there came a faint "Hello-o!"
 
"Alec," said Pat briefly. "He's getting worried."
 
Together they gave an answering shout, but the wind seemed to snatch the sound from their lips and whirl it behind them. "No use," said Pat. "Wind's the wrong way, and we better save our breath. We'll need it. It isn't far now, and he'll keep yelling to guide us."
 
Once more they buckled down to the task in hand. The few minutes' respite³⁹ had eased the weary muscles, and the sound of Alec's voice was wonderfully stimulating⁴⁰. Fifteen minutes later, panting and gasping⁴¹, powdered with snow from head to feet, they stumbled up to the cabin just as Alec Smith threw open the door to renew his signals. For a second he stared, then a look of intense relief swept across his rugged⁴² features.
 
 
 
"Glory be!" he cried, springing forward and unceremoniously shoving the exhausted⁴³ boys into the cabin. "I was feared that ye would be havi............