"You bet it is," chattered Hen. "It's a blizzard, and I don't care how
soon that door is shut."

"You're not giving orders here, remember," retorted Dan crisply, as he
went to the open doorway. The others, too, crowded to the doorway. It
certainly was a big snow. The flakes were of the largest size, and
coming down thickly to the tune of a moaning wind.

"It wasn't snowing at dark, and now there are at least four inches,"
cried Greg.

"Five inches," hazarded Dave.

"How many, Dick?"

"Say, are you fellows going to freeze me to death?" called Hen Dutcher,
his teeth chattering. He was facing the fire, roasting in front, but
with chills running down his spine.

"Close the door, fellows. We can't see much to-night at any rate, and
we'll see the whole storm in the morning," proposed Dick. "We don't want
to see Hen freeze to death."

"Nobody invited him here!"

Dick turned, wondering who had made that remark, but he could not make
up his mind.

"Take off your coat, Hen, and have some hot coffee. We have some left,
and it will warm you," Dick went on, after the door had been closed and
barred.

"I'll have supper and the whole thing," declared Hen promptly. "Don't
you fellows expect to feed your visitors?"

"We'll feed you," Dick agreed, "though we had made no plans for visitors
and didn't expect any."

Hen had some difficulty in getting off his coat.

"Are you as stiff as that?" asked Prescott, going to the other fellow's
assistance.

"I tell you, I'm just about frozen to death," moaned Hen. "My, how cold
it came on, just after dark! The wind began to howl, and I could feel
the ice forming on my chin every time I breathed. I thought sure I was
going to freeze to death in the woods. I'd about given up when I saw
your lights."

"How long has it been snowing?" Dave asked.

"Don't you fellows know?" Hen demanded.

"No; we were in here, getting supper and then eating it. We didn't know
that it had even started to snow."

"It wasn't snowing at dark, but it began some time after," replied Hen,
as he took the chair Dick offered and sank into it before the warming
glow.

"Don't get too close to the fire until you thaw out a bit," advised
Dick. "If you do you'll feel it more."

"I feel it now," groaned Hen, beginning to moan. "My hands are frozen
stiff."

They weren't really frozen, though the hands had been badly nipped. It
was twenty minutes before Hen Dutcher cared to move over to the table.
Even then