Part 23 (1/2)

d.i.c.k was too cold to talk, but he made a dive for his cap, and held it in place over some of the excelsior, while shaking Dan miserably felt for another match. This time the tiny flame caught in the excelsior.

”It's a g-g-g-g-go!” chattered d.i.c.k.

”M-m-m-me for b-b-b-b-bed!” chattered Dan, racing back to his bunk in the starting light of the fire and diving in under the blankets.

But d.i.c.k Prescott stuck at his post. He saw the excelsior blaze briskly.

Then the flames licked at the oil over the logs. Thirty seconds after that, and the cabin interior was fairly well lighted by the increasing blaze. d.i.c.k wouldn't go back to his bunk, but stood with his back as close as he dared to the fire. Yet the cold air was all around him, and, while his back baked the rest of his body was so cold that his teeth continued to play against each other in six eight time.

”Why don't you get back into bed?” called Tom Reade lazily from his warmth under blankets. But d.i.c.k stuck it out. When the first logs were a seething ma.s.s of ruddy fire d.i.c.k, now chattering less, brought more short logs and piled them on in place. The wind, that day, would take all the wood that was fed to the fire. Gradually d.i.c.k stopped chattering. At last he even felt comfortable.

”You fellows can get up now just as well as not,” he announced.

Dan was the first to try it.

”Something like,” he announced. That brought Dave Darrin out. One by one the other fellows followed--all except Hen.

”You don't catch me out of my bunk until breakfast is ready,” announced young Dutcher.

d.i.c.k wheeled impatiently, at this hint, but Dave Darrin whispered in his ear:

”Let it go at that, d.i.c.k. But after breakfast we'll make him wash all the dishes--every one--and spend the rest of the forenoon slicking up around the place. If he refuses--well, we'll know how to bring him to time.”

So Hen was ignored for the time being. Dan and Greg busied themselves in the first breakfast preparations. d.i.c.k and Dave, presently, went over to one of the windows, forcing it back and tugging at the shutter, which proved to be frozen in place.

”Bring some hot water, Dan, the minute you get it,” urged d.i.c.k. This was soon ready and a small amount of it was poured around the sill, loosening the shutter, which was shoved back.

”Glory! Look at the storm!” cried d.i.c.k. There was a rush after the gla.s.s window had been closed.

Never had a prettier snow scene been exposed to view. The snow was still swirling down, while what had fallen was up level with the window.

”It's a good four feet deep, already!” cried Dave.

”And looks as though it would go on snowing for a week,” added Tom Reade joyously.

”Fellows,” announced d.i.c.k, ”we're surely s...o...b..und. That's something that we've often dreamed about. Say, wouldn't it be queer if we had a long spell of this sort of thing, and couldn't--simply couldn't--get back to Central Grammar by the time school opens again after the holidays?”

”If the food holds out it'll be fun,” a.s.sented Tom Reade.

Soon another shutter was opened, admitting more daylight. When they got around to the rear window, and got it open, d.i.c.k pointed to the shack in the rear.

”Well, we know that Mr. Fits hasn't been out to-day,” Prescott laughed.

”Just look at his door. The drifts have piled against it, higher than the door itself.”

Snow scenes, however, do not feed any one. So the boys turned back to the kitchen preparations. What if the bacon and eggs didn't look quite neat enough to suit a real housekeeper? The mess tasted good. So did the fried potatoes, made out of the left overs from last night's boiled ones. Coffee, bread and b.u.t.ter and ”store pie.” No wonder the youngsters, when they were through with breakfast, and in a cabin now warm from one end to the other, felt, as d.i.c.k expressed it:

”Say, we're at peace with the whole world, aren't we?” he asked.