"
"But I must get to Dugout," Tom pleaded.
"You won't try it unless you're crazy," Jim retorted. "If you
make an attempt to stir from camp this afternoon, Reade, I'll
call on the men to hold you down until I can tie you. Do you
think I've waited, Reade, all these years to find a partner like
you, and then allow him to go off in a blizzard that would sure
finish him?"
"Then, if you're sure about this, Jim, I won't attempt to go until
the weather moderates."
"When the time's right I'll go," proposed Ferrers. "A pony is
no good on this white stuff. From some of the Swedes we've had
working out in this country I've learned how to make a pair of
skis. You can travel on skis where a pony would cut his legs
in two against the snow crust."
"Then, if I'm not going to Dugout, I'll go out and swing an axe
for a while," Tom suggested. "I want to be of some use, and I
can't sit still anyway."
"Oh, sit down," urged Ferrers, almost impatiently, as he filled
his pipe and lighted it.
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