For the present at least the blizzard was beaten.
"Now God be thanked for that," said Cameron. "For it was past my doing."
CHAPTER II
ON THE WINGS OF THE STORM
Shivering and hungry and fighting with sleep, Cameron stamped up
and down his cave, making now and then excursions into the storm to
replenish his fire. On sharpened sticks slices of venison were cooking
for his supper. Outside the storm raged with greater violence than ever
and into the cave the bitter cold penetrated, effectually neutralizing
the warmth of the little fire, for the wood was hard to get and a larger
fire he could not afford.
He looked at his watch and was amazed to find it only five o'clock. How
long could he maintain this fight? His heart sank at the prospect of
the long night before him. He sat down upon the rock close beside his
cooking venison and in a few moments was fast asleep.
He awoke with a start and found that the fire had crept along a jutting
branch and had reached his fingers. He sprang to his feet. The fire lay
in smouldering embers, for the sticks were mere brushwood. A terrible
fear seized him. His life depended upon the maintaining of this fire.
Carefully he assembled the embers and nursed them into bright flame.
At all costs he must keep awake. A further excursion into the woods for
fuel thoroughly roused him from his sleep.
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