But when Billy
unslung his pack of martens from the stock of the gun he found that the
thong had somehow loosened the flint in the lock and that it had dropped
out and was lost. Both boys were discouraged, for the night was chilly.
They crept inside the camp, which was barely large enough to hold two
persons. It was merely a boxlike structure only six feet square and five
feet high; sheets of bark from the large white birch-trees were tied
with small, flexible spruce roots to the frame, which was of light
poles. The door was a small square sheet of bark bound to a little frame
that would open and shut on curious wooden hinges. Though the camp was
frail, it kept off the wind and was slightly warmer than it was outside.
The boys found a couch of dry fir boughs inside, but the only cover for
it was a dried deerskin and one of Daddy Goss's old coats.
Meanwhile full darkness had fallen; and there would be no moon till late
at night. An owl came circling round and whoop-hooed dismally. Billy
said that he wished he were at home, and his companion admitted that he
wished he were there also. They closed the door and then, lying down as
close together as they could, put the two bunches of fur at their feet
and covered themselves with the old coat and the deer hide.
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