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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 20. The Cook Shack Disaster |
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_ CHAPTER XX. THE COOK SHACK DISASTER "First of all," Dick continued, "it's going to be chilly, soon, in this shack. Put on some fuel, Harry, won't you?" Hazelton complied with the request. By a common instinct all of the Grammar School boys gathered closely around the stove, extending their hands and warming themselves. "The battle can't be ours a bit too soon," observed Tom Reade dryly. "We've simply got to eat soon. Too bad we carted all of Mr. Fits's larder into the cabin this afternoon." "But what are we going to do about retaking our cabin," pressed that budding young war horse, Darrin. "I'm thinking fast over every plan that comes to me," Dick answered thoughtfully. "If any of you other fellows think of one first don't be backward with it. I'll promise not to be jealous." "Hang that Dutcher hound, anyway!" growled Tom Reade angrily. "I can't get over his mean, dirty work." "The best way is not to mention the fellow," Dick answered coldly. "He's not worth it." "Oh, he isn't, eh?" muttered a boy who had just stolen softly to the outside of the shack door and now stood there listening. That eavesdropper was Hen Dutcher, who had slipped out of the cabin to see how life fared with the boys whom he didn't like. Then Hen, still eavesdropping, listened to enough more to make sure that Dick & Co. were all of them free of their bonds, and that these enterprising Grammar School boys were actually discussing plans to rout the enemy from the log cabin. "Oh, I'll have to hustle back and tell this to Ripley's crew," chuckled Hen gleefully. "It'll amuse 'em." "What's that?" demanded Ripley, when the informer returned to the cabin with his news. "Prescott and his collection of babies are going to make trouble for us, are they? Can't they stand a good joke like men? Come along, fellows, and we'll teach 'em a little more about being real men." "We'd better take something in our hands, then," proposed Dodge firmly. "Those little fellows are regular spitfires. They may have something ready to throw at us when we break into the shack." "Oh, take axes, then, if you are afraid of the little kids," retorted Fred scornfully. "My hands are enough for me." Four or five of the rowdyish crowd picked up sticks that they had carried through the forest that afternoon. Thus prepared, they went out of the log cabin on tip-toe, making their way stealthily to the door of the shack. "Say, fellows," Harry was at that moment proposing to his friends inside, "hadn't we better drop the bar across the door? We can't tell when we may receive an unexpected visit from----" "How will now do?" roared Fred Ripley, throwing the shack door open before Greg could drop the bar in place. "So you young smarties managed to free yourselves, did you? And you thought you'd find a way to put a trick over on us? You'll have to take to getting up earlier in the day, if you expect to get the better of any crowd that I'm leading." Ripley's crew were now all of them in the shack, crowding the little place. "What is it that you're scheming to do, anyway?" leered Fred, enjoying the looks of dismay on the faces of Dick & Co. "See here, don't you little boys think that it's about time for you all to line up and start a footrace out of these woods?" "No; we don't," Dick retorted defiantly. "We think it's high time, though, for your crowd to start just such a race." "Hold your tongue, freshie!" ordered Fred roughly. "Not for you!" Dick snapped, his temper going up as the mercury climbs on a hot day. "Then I'll make you!" offered young Ripley, making a spring at Dick. But Dick & Co. were now all together, standing in a firm fighting line. Fred received punches from the fists belonging to three different school boys, and fell back, red and panting. "Sail in, everybody!" ordered Fred. "These simpletons haven't sense enough to stand a good joke on themselves." It was an unmanly thing to do. Some of the boys in Ripley's crowd had no idea of going further than having rather rough "fun." However, the shack, in an instant, was the scene of a lively mix-up. In the midst of the excitement Bert Dodge drove Harry Hazelton against the stovepipe. It came down, showering soot all over Fred's face and down his neck. In the excitement that followed, and during the rush of some of the boys to get out of the flying cloud of soot, the stove itself was overturned. Red embers flew about in every direction. The door being open, the wind helped to set the cabin ablaze. "Now you've done it!" panted Dick, holding up one hand and trying to put a stop to the trouble. "Quit fighting and help put the fire out." "You youngsters put it out yourselves, then," Fred retorted. "It was all your fault that it started." An indignant denial came to Dick's lips, but he forced it back. This shack was another's property, and personal differences must be kept in the background until the blaze had been extinguished. "Let me past you," demanded Dick indignantly, but Bert Dodge barred the doorway until the mounting flames scared Ripley, who turned and yelled to Dodge to let the boys out. Dick & Co. raced to the log cabin, where they caught up the water buckets, a dishpan and other utensils that would hold water. Dick also snatched up a hatchet, for he knew that the spring would be frozen over. Fast as they worked at the spring, the shack was well ablaze by the time that the Grammar School boys returned with the first water. "Why don't you fellows brace up and do something, Ripley?" Dick queried, as he ran up with water. "What is there for us to do?" Fred demanded rather soberly. "Find something to do. Show yourself a man." "Now, don't you turn impudent again," Ripley warned young Prescott angrily. "It was that sort of thing that started the first trouble." "You'd better find something to do, for your father has charge of this property," Dick shot back over his shoulder, as he ran toward the spring. [Illustration: Dick and Dave Were Boosted to the Cabin Roof.] "Look!" called Dave, as Dick & Co. started once more for the spring. "It's too late. This little bit of water won't do anything for the shack. See the sparks fly! They'll fall on the roof of the cabin, and that will go, too." The blaze was now fast reaching the roof of the shack. Blazing little flakes of fire were soaring up toward the sky. "We can't save the shack. We can't get water fast enough!" Prescott called. "We must try to wet down the roof of the cabin, to keep it from getting afire." Fred Ripley and Bert Dodge now appeared to be thoroughly frightened. Without waiting to be asked, they came forward to help boost Dick and Dave up to the roof of the log cabin. As fast as the water came Dick or Dave dashed it over the side of the cabin roof that was more exposed to sparks from the shack, every particle of snow having been blown off the roof by the furious wind that had prevailed. "Look!" called Tom. "The wind is coming up--it's carrying the sparks away from the cabin." "No need to bring more water, then," sang out Fred Ripley, in a voice of intense relief. "It's all right if the sparks aren't blowing toward the cabin." "Keep bringing water," disputed Dick, "until the shack is completely burned down. We can't take any chances." But at last even Dick Prescott was satisfied with the quantity of water that had been poured over the cabin's roof. Before the new breeze the sparks were steadily being carried the other way. "We'll stop, now," Dick announced. "We can start again at any time that the wind changes to this quarter." "What are you going to tell your father about this, Ripley?" Dave Darrin asked presently. "Nothing," replied Fred, with a start. "Is that all you ever tell him about your misdeeds?" inquired Tom dryly. "This isn't my misdeed," Fred snapped. "You fellows started all the trouble." "I suppose we even invited your crowd to come over here this afternoon and steal our food?" Dave continued. "Now, you youngsters will get trouble started all over again, if you don't look out," Fred threatened the Grammar School boys. "You'd better leave us alone," suggested Dick, "and make up your mind about what you're going to tell your father when he hears about this." "Who's going to tell him?" snarled young Ripley. "I don't know." "Are you, Dick Prescott?" insisted Fred. "Not unless I have to." "Don't you dare go to spreading this yarn around Gridley!" "I won't promise," Dick made answer. "I don't want to carry tales if I can help it, but we're bound to report to your father that the cook shack was burned down while we were here." "You can tell my father that it was your own carelessness, and let it go at that," suggested Ripley. "Humph! I like the cool nerve of your idea," Dick jeered. "That's what you'll tell my father, if you know what's good for you," Fred went on. "That's all I've got to say, but you'll be sorry if you don't take my advice." Though the temperature was some degrees below zero in the forest that evening, none of the boys near the log cabin felt at all cold. The shack, whose roof soon fell in, still burned briskly enough to keep all hands warm. "Watch your chance to dart into the cabin when you see me start. Move fast when the time comes. Tell Tom and Harry when you get a chance, but don't let the Ripley crowd suspect." Dick then found chance to pass the message to Greg and Dan. Five minutes later Dick sauntered back to the corner of the cabin at the front side. Dave approached from another direction. Tom and the others caught the meaning of the move. Then, all of a sudden, there was a scampering of feet. "Look out!" yelled telltale Hen. "That crowd is up to something!" "I know what they're up to!" shouted Fred. "Follow me!" The older boys charged the cabin door, but they reached it just as Greg was dropping the bar into place. "Get in through the windows--quick!" shouted Ripley. He himself made a dash for one of the windows. Click! went a shutter before his face, and the locking-pin was dropped in. In a trice all the shutters were in place. Dick & Co. were in their castle! "You fellows open that door!" stormed Fred Ripley. "Come inside and make us!" mocked Dick. "Open that door," summoned Fred, "or we'll get a log and use it for a battering ram. We can get the door down that way!" Dick felt a throb of dismay. It would be possible to get the door down by the aid of a battering ram, if the boys outside could find a sufficiently large log and had the strength to use it. _ |
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