If there's any life left in the horse, it'll soon be smothered out unless we set him free." The men needed no urging, however.

They worked as if their lives depended on their exertions.

Dick Varley, in particular, laboured like a young Hercules, and Henri hurled masses of snow about in a most surprising manner.

Crusoe, too, entered heartily into the spirit of the work, and, scraping with his forepaws, sent such a continuous shower of snow behind him that he was speedily lost to view in a hole of his own excavating.

In the course of half-an-hour a cavern was dug in the mound almost close up to the cliff, and the men were beginning to look about for the crushed body of Dick's steed, when an exclamation from Henri attracted their attention.
"Ha! mes ami, here am be one hole." The truth of this could not be doubted, for the eccentric trapper had thrust his shovel through the wall of snow into what appeared to be a cavern beyond, and immediately followed up his remark by thrusting in his head and shoulders.