We went to bed feeling that we were glad we
had missed the road, since it had brought so delightful a
camping-place.
Ollie was the first to wake in the morning. It was quite
light.
"What makes the cover sag down so?" he asked. Jack opened his
eyes, reached up with the whipstock and raised it. Something slid
off the outside with a rush.
"Open the front and you'll see," answered Jack.
Ollie did so, and we all looked out. The ground was deep with
snow, and it was still falling in great feathery flakes. Old
Blacky was loose, and looked in at us with a wicked gleam in his
eyes.
XI: DEADWOOD
"You're a miserable, sneaking, treacherous old equine
scoundrel!" cried Jack, shaking his fist violently at Old Blacky.
"You knew you were making us come the wrong road."
Old Blacky answered never a word, but turned, hit the
wagon-tongue a kick, and joined the other horses.
"Well, close down the front and let's talk this thing over,"
said Jack. "In the first place, we are snowed in."
"In the second place," said I, "we may stay snowed in a
week.
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