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The Grammar School Boys Snowbound or, Dick & Co. at Winter Sports, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 7. The Prowler Of The Night |
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_ CHAPTER VII. THE PROWLER OF THE NIGHT
"I wonder who it can be?" muttered Dan. "Some one who has no business here, anyway," returned Tom Reade bluntly. "I wonder if it's some one who did live here, or some one who thinks he's going to keep on living here?" asked Dave Darrin dryly. "Just the same, I'd like to know who has been living here," Dick went on. "For that matter, who would want to live here, in the depths of the woods in winter?" "Well, we do, for one crowd," Greg reminded him. "Yes; but we're boys with a craze for open air and something different," Prescott maintained. "Now, if men have been living here, the case is different. Men don't care about schoolboy junkets. If the man or men who have been living here are honest, I don't mind. Such men will move on if they find that we're here, and that we alone have the proper authority to live here. But suppose the men are not honest? Or rough characters?" "It will depend on how many there are of them," responded Dan, with one of his broad grins. "Why?" challenged Dick. "If we had to fight for the right to live in this cabin, how many do you think we could thrash?" "Oh, I guess it won't come to that," remarked Tom Reade coolly. "And I hope it won't come to that, or anything like it," Dick replied. "But just the same, you're going to be scared until you find out? Is that it?" laughed Harry Hazelton. Dick flushed, but he answered honestly: "Until something happens I can't tell whether I'm going to be scared or not. Anyway, perhaps I won't show the greatest amount of fright that is displayed around here." "Now, you're answered, Harry," muttered Dave in a low voice, his eyes flashing. "No fellow in this crowd has any right to doubt that Dick Prescott is all there with the grit when it's called for." "Can't a fellow joke?" asked Hazelton. "But, while all this talk is going on," chattered Dan, "I'm not growing any warmer." "All lend a hand, and we'll get the fireplace cleaned out and the fire going," urged Dick. After that they made matters fly. The old ashes and hot embers were taken outside and spread. Logs were laid and coal oil spread over them. A match was touched, flames leaped up in response to the heavy draft of the broad chimney, and the interior of the old cabin seemed ablaze. "My, but that's going to be plenty hot, and some more," chuckled Dan. "Who'll chop the ice at the spring and get two buckets of water?" called Dick. "I will," Harry answered, and departed, Greg going along to help him. In a short time Dick had water boiling in a kettle that hung over the fire. "I don't suppose anyone cares for coffee?" proposed Dick, glancing about him. In a very short time the beverage was ready. "Aren't we going to have something to eat, too?" Dan wanted to know, as the young campers gathered at the table. "What's the use of spoiling our supper, which is only a couple of hours or so away?" asked Dave sensibly. Though the coffee was weak, it was hot. The youngsters soon began to warm up, and all became cheery. "Oh, but this life is going to be great!" sighed Greg exultantly. "Say, fellows, I'm glad I thought of this way of putting in a vacation. Won't the other fellows in town be crazy when they hear what a great time we've had?" "What I want to know," Harry broke in, "is whether rabbits really do run in the woods in winter? My mouth is made up for some rabbit stew." "Maybe we can buy a couple of rabbits, then, from some farmer's son," suggested Dick dryly. "Buy 'em?" sniffed Hazelton scornfully. "Huh! Next thing we know you'll want some one to come in and do the housework!" "It would be better done, then, I don't doubt," laughed Dick. "Now, fellows, the clock tells us that it's quarter of four. That means something like an hour more of daylight. I guess we've a few things to do, haven't we?" "Get supper!" proposed Dan. "That's one of the things," nodded Dick. "Then there's water to be brought in. In this nipping air I'll bet there's already more ice over the spring. Then we ought to bring in a lot more logs for the fire. It'll be harder work after dark. And some one ought to get potatoes ready to put on over the fire. Then we ought to select our bunks and get bedding in them. After that we want to tidy up this hard dirt floor. Some one will need to wash the cups and saucers, and have 'em ready for supper." "Let's have some system to it, then," urged Dave. "Dick, you look about and see what's needed. Then set each fellow to his task--and all the rest will take any kicker down to the spring and duck him!" "Lemme fix the potatoes, then," begged Dan. That being one of the "disagreeable" tasks, no one objected. Dick parceled out the tasks, and things were soon humming. While they were still busy, darkness had settled down. But Greg had filled the lamp and the lantern, and had them going, though the big, red fire filled the whole cabin with light. "Whee! But this is jolly!" cried Greg, as he stood arranging his bedding in the bunk he had chosen. "It'll be more like fun to-morrow, though," suggested Dick, "when we can have a whole, daylight day out in the woods. But I think we're all going to be mighty comfortable here." That was the general feeling. The Grammar School boys found themselves filled with contentment. "How are the potatoes coming on, Danny?" inquired Tom. "I'm so hungry I can hardly stand up." "Ready in ten minutes more, I reckon," Dan answered cheerily. "Bully!" Greg was cutting bread and getting butter out of a glass jar. Dave had busied himself with opening two tins of meat. They had fresh meat, but the latter was to be used on the morrow when their housekeeping arrangements had been better made. For the present the meat and some other perishable articles of food rested on the ground outdoors, under an overturned box on which three large stones had been placed as weights. "It's six o'clock," called Dick at last. "Are we going to eat on time?" "I'm all ready with the potatoes," Dan called back. Dick once more busied himself with making weak coffee. Tom and Harry set the dishes on the table with a cheery clatter. Then six fearfully hungry boys sat down to table. "There's no jam on the table," grunted Harry. "Oh, wait until we get outside of the solid stuff before we bother with sweets," begged Darrin. It was nearly seven when the glorious meal was over. As nothing but potatoes and coffee had depended on a cook, nothing went wrong with the meal. "Now, we can clean up and wash the dishes," proposed Dick Prescott. "What's that?" demanded Tom Reade belligerently. "Work? Right on top of a supper like that?" "I guess we do all feel more like taking a nap," laughed Dick. "Well, we'll rest for half an hour and see if we feel more like effort then. What do you say if we all pull our chairs up to the fire?" "How close to the fire?" asked Dan, screening his eyes with his fingers as he glanced at the blazing logs. "Oh, not too close for comfort, of course," agreed Dick. "But come on. We can swap stories." "Will they be anything like the spanking story that good Old Dut told you last September, Dick?" teased Dave. "Not right away, I guess," smiled Dick. "I don't believe any fellow, after that big supper, feels as if he had energy enough to tell a spanking story. But what kind of stories shall we tell?" "I'll wait for some one else to start it," yawned Tom, as he took his seat in the semi-circle at a respectful distance from the blaze. "Who else is going to be a quitter or a loafer?" inquired Dave scornfully. There was a pause. No one appeared to have a story that he wanted to try out on such a critical audience. At last Dick remarked thoughtfully: "As the man on the clubhouse steps said----" Then he paused, as if he had forgotten the matter. "Well," insisted Greg presently, "what did the man on the clubhouse steps say?" "Eh?" inquired Dick, gazing at him with mock blankness. "What did the man on the clubhouse steps say?" repeated Greg. "Oh--er--that is--it's really a secret," Dick replied provokingly. "Now, see here, none of that!" growled Tom. "Eh?" demanded Dan, awaking from a light doze, with a start and a subdued snore. "Dick Prescott, you tell us what the man on the clubhouse steps said!" ordered Tom. "But I've just told you that it's a secret." "None of that, now!" "But I can't tell secrets!" pleaded Dick. "It isn't a secret at all. It's a good story, and you've got to let it come out. We need a good one to get us started." All now joined in the demand, but Dick shook his head protestingly. "Honestly, fellows, it wouldn't be right for me to tell secrets," he insisted. The inner bar that locked the door by night had been dropped into place ere the boys sat down to supper. But now Harry rose, went over to the door and raised the bar. "Fellows," he called back, "give Dick Prescott just one more swift chance to tell us what the man on the clubhouse steps said. If he won't, then grab him and fire him out into the night until he knocks on the door and promises to be good." Tom, Greg and Dave made a laughing bolt for their young leader. "Some one's pulling the latch-string from outside," reported Harry Hazelton, too startled, for the moment, to let the bar fall. But Tom wheeled like a flash, leaped forward and dropped the bar back into place. "It's the fellow, or fellows, who have been living here before we came," whispered Dan in a half-scared voice. _ |
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