Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18 Precious minutes ticked by, and none of them moved. It was getting colder. But down here, close to the ground, the wind wasn't quite as strong. The air wasn't as thick with swirling snow. John managed to wipe the frozen snow from his eyes. Which is why he saw it, the outline of something very big, just a few yards ahead.

"There's the house!" John shouted. They all lunged forward, crawling desperately through the snowdrifts. John's heart pounded with excitement. They'd made it! They'd be safe! The boys pushed themselves along, fighting their way forward. It wasn't until they were just inches away that they saw that it wasn't the Ricker house. It was a big haystack. Peter let out a big sob. Rex cursed and looked around. "The house must be this way!" he shouted. Rex stepped forward, but John grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him back. "No!" John shouted. John might not be a real pioneer like Rex. This was only his second Dakota winter. But he knew this for sure: They'd never find the Ricker house, not in time. They had to get out of this wind and snow. They had to try to get warm.

Inside the haystack. John remembered the fox that had hidden in their haystack overnight. Didn't Rex say that animals were always right? John turned to Rex. "We won't make it," he shouted over the wind. "We have to take cover in here." And now John took the lead. He punched a hole through the thick crust of snow and ice that covered the haystack. He reached through and grabbed fistfuls of the soft hay to make space. Rex and Peter and Sven were helping him. They worked desperately, jabbing their hands in, pulling out hay. They all worked together until they had a little cave, big enough for them all to fit. And then they crawled in, lying flat and squeezed together. It was still freezing cold. John's numb hands and feet felt like blocks of wood. He couldn't stop shivering. But finally the cruel wind couldn't reach them. The ice and snow couldn't tear at their

faces. And soon the heat from their bodies started to warm up the small space. "Don't sleep," Rex said. John had heard what happened to people who fell asleep in the freezing cold. They never woke up. That's why freezing to death wasn't the worst way to die, he'd heard. Because you fall asleep before your heart stops. And so now they fought hard against sleep, just like they'd fought against the wind and snow. They took turns telling stories. They counted to one thousand and then did it again backward. They said prayers. John told them the name of every player on the Chicago White Stockings. The hours passed. The blizzard raged on. They ran out of stories and got tired of counting. And then Peter started muttering in a strange, rhyming way. And John realized he was reciting one of the long, boring poems Miss Ruell had made them memorize. They all joined him. And then they

recited another, and another. They all knew so many. It turned out that not all of those poems were so boring. Some were about pirates and sailors. One was about the summer, and the words made John feel warmer. There were poems that made no sense, like one about a pig wearing a wig. But it actually made them laugh. Those poems kept them up for hours more. But finally, their voices became ragged. Their words faded away. John's mind started to drift. Don't sleep! Don't sleep! His eyes fluttered. Don't sleep! Don't sleep! John's eyes shut. Don't sleep, don't… John's eyes stayed closed. Everything got quiet, even the sound of that screaming wind. Was this ferocious storm finally dying?

Or was John?