Part 38 (1/2)

”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,” d.i.c.k shot back over his shoulder, as he ran toward the spring.

[Ill.u.s.tration: d.i.c.k and Dave Were Boosted to the Cabin Roof.]

”Look!” called Dave, as d.i.c.k & 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 d.i.c.k and Dave up to the roof of the log cabin. As fast as the water came d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, ”until the shack is completely burned down. We can't take any chances.”

But at last even d.i.c.k Prescott was satisfied with the quant.i.ty 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,” d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k, ”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, d.i.c.k Prescott?” insisted Fred.