Part 37 (1/2)
It was not cold in the cook shack, for there was still some fire going in the stove. The embers also threw a slight amount of illumination into the room.
d.i.c.k dropped to his knees behind Tom Reade, and, reaching for the cords that bound Tom's wrists behind his back, began to gnaw.
”Well, by hokey!” gasped Tom. ”I never had head enough to think of that.”
”If we were gagged like Greg and Dan, we couldn't do the trick,” Dave rejoined. ”Come here, Harry; get in front of me and I'll gnaw your wrists free.”
d.i.c.k paused long enough in his work to say:
”No need, Dave. When Tom is once free he can use his knife and have us all turned loose in a jiffy.”
Prescott possessed strong, fine teeth. He gnawed away at the cords to such good advantage that Reade soon had the use of his hands.
”Now, I'll do as much for you, d.i.c.k,” Tom proposed, reaching for his pocket knife.
Within a very short time all six were free, and Greg and Dan, their mouths free of the gags, told indignantly how they had been engaged in preparing supper when the door opened and Ripley and his crowd burst in.
”And now I suppose the rowdies are eating up the supper,” finished Greg vengefully.
”I guess they've got it about finished by now,” Prescott added grimly.
”But we six are free. If we're any good we'll get our cabin back and make it our castle against all comers.”
”Good!” cried Dave, a fiery flash in his eyes. ”But how?”
”That's what we've got to figure out,” d.i.c.k replied thoughtfully. ”But we'll do it.”
CHAPTER XX
THE COOK SHACK DISASTER
”First of all,” d.i.c.k 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,” d.i.c.k 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,” d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k & 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.