Indeed, the storm was so thick that no houses were in sight. There might have been some near by, but the children could not see any.

Nor were any persons to be seen pa.s.sing along the street. If there had been, one of them might easily have set the twins right. But the truth of it was that Flossie and Freddie had taken the wrong turn in coming out of Mrs. Todd's house, and instead of walking toward their home they had, in the confusion of the storm, walked right away from it. Every step they took put them farther and farther away from their own house.

And now, as they learned later, they were on the far edge of the city of Lakeport, beyond the dumps, on what was called the "meadows." In Summer this was a swamp, but with the ground frozen as it was it was safe to walk on it. But no houses were built on it, and there were only a few lonely paths across this meadow stretch.

In the Summer a few men cut a coa.r.s.e kind of hay that grew on the meadows, but as hay-cutting is not done in Winter no one now had any reason for going to the meadows.

"Well, we mustn't stand still," said Flossie, after a bit.

"Why not?" asked Freddie. "Can't you stand still when you're tired?"

"Not in a snowstorm," Flossie went on with a shake of her head. "If you stand still or lie down you may go to sleep, and when you sleep in the snow you freeze to death. Don't you remember the story mother read to us?"

"Yes," answered Freddie. "But I don't feel sleepy now, so it's all right to stand still a minute while I think."

"What are you thinking about?" asked his sister.

"I'm trying to think which way to go. Do you know?"

Flossie looked all about her. It was snowing harder than ever. However, it was not very cold. Indeed, only that they were lost, the Bobbsey twins would have thought it great fun to be out in the storm.

They were well wrapped up, and they had on high rubbers, so they were not badly off except for being lost. That was not any fun, of course.

"Do you know where we are?" asked Freddie of his sister.

"No," she answered, "I don't. It doesn't look as if we were on any street at all. Look at the tall gra.s.s all around us."

Standing up through the snow was the tall meadow gra.s.s that had not been cut. Freddie looked at it.

"Oh, now I know where we are!" he cried. "We're down on the meadows.

Bert brought me here once when he was looking for muskrats. He didn't get any, but I remember how tall the gra.s.s grew. Now I know where we are."

"All right, then you can take me home," Flossie said. "We're not lost if you know where we are."

"But I don't know which way our house is," Freddie went on, "and I can't see to tell with all these flakes coming down. I'll have to wait until it stops."

"S'posin' it doesn't stop all night?" asked Flossie.

"Oh, I guess it will," said Freddie. "Anyhow, we know where we are.

Let's walk on and maybe we'll get off the meadows and on to a street that leads to our house."

Flossie was glad to walk, as it was warmer than when standing still; and so she and Freddie went on. They did not know where they were going, and, as they found out afterward, they went farther and farther from their home and the city with every step.

"Oh, look!" suddenly cried Flossie.

"What is it?" asked her brother, stumbling over a little pile of snow as he hurried up beside his sister, who had gone on ahead of him. "Did you find the right path, Flossie? But then I don't believe you did. I don't believe anybody, not even Santa Claus himself, could find a path in this snow storm."

"Yes he could," insisted Flossie. "Santa Claus can do anything. He could come right down out of the sky now, in his reindeer sleigh, and take us home, if he wanted to."

"Well, then," said Freddie, shaking his head as a snowflake blew into his ear and melted there with a ticklish feeling, "I just wish he _would_ come and take us home. I'm--I'm getting tired, Flossie."

"So'm I. But I did see something, Freddie," and the little girl pointed ahead through the drifting flakes. "It wasn't the path, though."

"What'd you see?" demanded Freddie, rubbing his eyes so he could see more clearly.

"That!" and Flossie pointed to a rounded mound of snow about half as high as her head. It was right in front of her and Freddie.

"Oh, it's a little snow house!" cried Freddie.

"That's what I thought it was," Flossie went on. "Some one must have been playing out here on the meadows, and made this little house. It's awful small, but maybe if we curl up and stick our legs under us, we can get inside out of the storm."

"Maybe we can!" cried Freddie. "Let's try."

The children walked around the pile of snow, looking for the hole, such as they always left when they built snow houses.

"The front door is closed," said Freddie. "I guess they shut it after them when they went away."

"Maybe they're inside now," remarked Flossie. "If we knocked maybe they would let us in. Only it will be awful crowded," and she sighed. She was very cold and tired, and was worried about being lost. It was no fun, and she would have been glad to go inside the little snow house, even though some one else were in it also.

"There's no place to knock," Freddie said, as he looked about on every side of the round pile of snow. "And there's no door-bell. The next time I make a snow house, Flossie, I'm going to put a front door-bell on it."

"That'll be nice," his sister said. "But, Freddie, never mind about the door-bell now. Let's get inside. I'm awful cold!"

"So'm I. And another snowflake just went into my ear. It makes me wiggle when it melts and runs down inside."

"I like to wiggle," Flossie said. "I'm going to open my ears real wide and maybe a snowflake will get in mine. Does it feel funny?"

"Terribly funny. But you can't open your ears any wider than they are now, Flossie. They're wide open all the while--not like your eyes that you can open and shut part way."

"Maybe I can open my ears wider," Flossie said. "I'm going to try, anyhow."

She stood still in the snow, wrinkling her forehead and making funny "snoots" as Freddie called them, trying to widen her ears. But she gave it up finally.

"I guess I can't get a snowflake to tickle me," she said with a sigh.

"You can have the next one that goes into my ear," offered Freddie. "But they melt so soon and run down so fast that I don't see how I am going to get them out."

"Never mind," said Flossie. "I can get a snowflake in my ear when I get home. Just now let's see if we can't get inside this little house. If the door is frozen shut, maybe you can find a stick and poke it open.

Look for a stick, Freddie."

"All right, I will," and Freddie began kicking away at the snow around his feet, hoping to turn up a stick. This he soon did.

"I've found one!" he cried. "Now we can get in and away from the storm.

I'll make a hole in the snow house!"

With the stick, which was a piece of flat board, Freddie began to toss and shovel aside the snow. The top part came off easily enough, for the flakes were light and fluffy. But underneath them there was a hard, frozen crust and this was not so easily broken and tossed aside. But finally Freddie had made quite a hole, and then he and Flossie saw something queer. For, instead of coming to the hollow inside of the snow house, the little boy and girl saw a ma.s.s of sticks, dried gra.s.s and dirt. Over this was the snow, and it was piled up round, like the queer houses the Eskimos make in the Arctic regions.

"Oh, look!" cried Flossie. "It isn't a snow house at all. It's just a pile of sticks."