During June the cold gradually increased. Webb reported that the barometer was steady at just above twenty-seven inches, and the thermometer was from eighteen to twenty degrees below freezing. As soon as the wind, which blew from the south, shifted towards the west the temperature rose a little, and the surroundings of French Den were covered with a deep snow. The snow was not unwelcome, as it afforded an opportunity for a grand snowballing match, in which a few of the boys suffered severely, notably Jack, who stood looking on. A ball thrown furiously by Cross missed its mark and hit him hard enough to make him cry.
"I did not do it on purpose," said Cross, with the usual excuse of the clumsy.
"Perhaps not," said Briant, who had noticed his brother's cry, "but you shouldn't throw so hard."
"Well, why did he get in the way?" asked Cross. "Why isn't he playing?"
"What a fuss about a little bruise," said Donagan.
"Perhaps it is not very serious," answered Briant, seeing that Donagan wished to interfere in the matter; "but I'll ask Cross not to do it again."
"How can he manage that?" asked Donagan jeeringly, "if he didn't do it on purpose?"
"I don't know what business it is of yours, Donagan," said Briant; "it only concerns Cross and me—"
"And it concerns me too, Briant, if that is the tone you take," said Donagan.
"As you please—and when you please," replied Briant, crossing his arms.
"Let us have it now, then," said Donagan.
At this moment Gordon came up, just in time to prevent the quarrel ending in a fight.
He decided that Donagan was in the wrong. And Donagan had to submit, and much to his disgust went back to French Den. But it was to be feared that some other incident would soon bring the rivals to blows.
The snow continued to fall for two days. To amuse
