Sandy looked at Ken, and then back at the spot where the lean-to had stood. He seemed completely stunned by the catastrophe which had overtaken them.
Ken’s bloodless lips shaped the words. “That was our last chance.”
“We’re not licked yet,” Sandy shouted. “Come on around the other side. I noticed something there—covered by canvas. Maybe it’s a hand pump.”
This time Ken couldn’t respond to the determined hope in Sandy’s voice. But he obediently followed the redhead around the cabin into the windy fury of the cabin’s other side. There Sandy went down on his knees beside a canvas-wrapped mound nestling against the bulkhead.
His fingers tore at the lashings without effect. The ropes were frozen fast.
Ken roused himself out of his despair and exhaustion.
“Knife,” he said briefly, and foug
