A VISITOR BY THE AIR ROUTE When the boys awoke next morning the fire was still burning, though there was not enough of it left to prevent a thin layer of ice forming over the surface of the water in the barrel.

Tom Reade slipped from his bunk, drawing on shoes and trousers, and quickly placed a few more logs over the embers.

A few minutes after that it was warm enough for the rest to slip out of their bunks and dress hurriedly--all except Hen Dutcher.
Greg soon busied himself, tea-kettle in hand, with thawing the ice around the bottoms of the sliding shutters.
"No tracks at the cook shack," announced young Holmes.

"And say, fellows, it has stopped snowing." "Well, for once in my life," smiled Dick, "I think I've seen enough snow.

I just wonder how the folks in Gridley are getting through it." "Oh, they must have the streets broken, after a fashion, and some sort of paths on the main sidewalks," responded Tom Reade judicially.
All were now at the windows, looking out over the scene.