The first author wrote a page of the history and two lines on the second page.  Then the second read those last two lines and went on with the story, leaving another two lines at the top of the next page, and so on.  It was a wonderful piece of literary work when it was finished, and Madge kept it to read to the S.B.’s when they got back to Briarwood Hall.

“For, of course,” she said, “we’re not going to be forever shut up in this cave.  I don’t want to turn into a ’cave man’—­nor yet a ’cave woman’!”

“See if the snow has stopped—­that’s a good boy, Tommy,” urged Helen.

“Of course it hasn’t.  Don’t you see how dark it is, sis?” returned her twin.

But he started toward the mouth of the cavern.  Just then Bob looked at his watch in the firelight, and exclaimed: 

“No wonder it seems dark—­do you know it’s half after four right now?”

“Wow! mother will be scared,” said Ralph Tingley.

Just then there came a cry from Tom.  Then followed a heavy, smothered thud.  The boys dashed to the entrance.  It was pitch dark.  A great mass of hard packed snow filled the opening, and was being forced into the cave itself.  In this heap of snow struggled Tom, fairly smothered.

They laid hold upon him—­by a leg and an arm—­and dragged him out.  He could not speak for a moment and he had lost his cap.

“How did you do that?” demanded Bob.  “What does it mean?”

“Think—­think I did it on purpose?” demanded the overwhelmed youth.  “I’m no Samson to pull down the pillars on top of me.  Gee! that snow came sudden.”

“Where—­where did it all come from?” demanded his sister.

“From the top of the cliff, of course.  It must have made a big drift there and tumbled down—­regular avalanche, you know—­just as I tried to look out.  Why! the place out there is filled up yards deep!  We’d never be able to dig out in a week.”

“Oh, dear me! what shall we do?” groaned Belle, who was beginning to get nervous.

“Have supper,” suggested Heavy, calmly.  “No matter what we have to face, we can do it better after eating.”

They laughed, but took her advice.  Nobody failed to produce an appetite at the proper time.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Belle, “if only mother knew we were safe I’d be content to stay all night.  It’s fun.”

“And if we had some salt,” complained Lluella.  “I don’t like fish without salt—­not much.”

“You’re a fine female Robinson Crusoe,” laughed Tom.  “This is real ‘roughing it.’  I expect all you girls will weaken by morning.”

“Oh, oh!” cried his sister, “you talk as though you thought we would be obliged to stay here, Tom.”

“I don’t just see how we’re to get out to-night,” Tom returned, grimly.  “Not from this end of the cave, at any rate.  I tell you, tons and tons of snow fell into its mouth.”

“But you know the other way out, Ruthie?” urged Lluella, half inclined to cry.