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

“Maybe it’s a stick house, with snow on the outside,” Freddie said.  “I’m going to dig a little deeper.”

He did so, tossing aside the grass, sticks and dirt.  Flossie was watching him, and suddenly the two children saw something moving down in the hole that Freddie had dug.  Presently a furry nose was thrust out, and two bright, snapping eyes looked at them.

“Oh, see!  What is it?” cried Flossie.

Freddie dropped his stick shovel, and stumbled back.  Flossie went with him.  The sharp, furry nose was thrust farther out, and then they could see that it was the head of some animal, looking at them from inside the snow-covered stick house.

“Some one lives there after all,” whispered Flossie.  “Is it a—­a bear, Freddie?  If it is, we’d better run.”

“Bears don’t live in houses like this,” said her brother.  “They sleep all winter in hollow logs.”

“Well, what is it then?” Flossie questioned, “Will it come after us?”

But the little animal seemed satisfied to look out of the hole in its house to see who had done the mischief.  Then it began pulling the sticks and grass back into place with its paws and jaws.

“Oh, I know what it is!” Freddie cried.  “It’s a muskrat.  They live in these mounds on the meadows.  Bert told me so.  This one’s house looked extra big because it was all covered with snow.  There wouldn’t be room for us inside there, Flossie.”

“I’m glad of it,” answered the little girl.  “I wouldn’t want to crawl in with a lot of rats.”

“Muskrats are nice,” Freddie said.  “Bert told me so.”

“Well, I don’t like ’em!” declared Flossie.  “Come on, Freddie.  Let’s get away from here.  That muskrat might chase us for breaking in his house, though we didn’t mean to do any harm.  Come on, Freddie,” and the two little ones went on once more.

The storm was growing worse, and it was getting dark now with the heavy clouds up above.

“Say, Freddie,” said Flossie, after a bit, “I’m tired.  Why don’t we holler?”

“Holler?” asked Freddie, trying to turn his overcoat collar closer around his neck.  “What do we want to holler for?”

“For help,” answered Flossie.  “Don’t you know, in books and stories, every time people get lost they holler for help?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Freddie said.  “I forgot about that.  Well, we can holler.”

The twins shouted as loudly as they could, but their voices were not very strong, and the wind was now blowing so hard that even if any one had been near at hand he could hardly have heard the little ones calling.

“Help!  Help!” shouted Flossie and Freddie together several times.

They listened, but all they could hear was the howling of the wind and the swishing of the snowflakes.

“Well, let’s walk on some more,” said Freddie, after a bit.  “No use standing here.”