The Grammar School Boys Snowbound
H >>
H. Irving Hancock >> The Grammar School Boys Snowbound
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 | 10 |
11 |
12
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.
CHAPTER XXI
ON THE TRAIL BACKWARD
"You'd better listen to me, Fred Ripley," called Dick, through the
barred door.
"Yah! You better do the listening!" snarled Ripley. "Open that door, or
trouble is going to start inside of sixty seconds."
"What I want to say," Dick went on, rather calmly now, since he felt
that he was nearly master of the situation, "is that, if you break the
door down, or start anything else that is mean, we shall have to tell
your father all about it. We were given charge of this property, and
we've got to account for it. You're a lawyer's son; perhaps you know
what kind of trouble your conduct here to-night will get you into."
"Telltale!" taunted Fred.
Dick made no answer, deeming silence the wiser course.
"Sneak!" added Ripley.
Dick held up his hand as a signal to his chums to preserve silence.
Outside the other boys heard no noise save that made by Tom Reade when
he began to feed the fire, for the interior of the cabin was growing a
trifle chilly.
"Now, don't say a word to them, no matter what those fellows yell at
us," Dick whispered, circulating among his chums. "Don't even let them
hear us talking among ourselves. If everything is still in here, and
they can't get any answer from us, that may set them to guessing. If we
get them to guessing they'll be uneasy next."
So silence reigned within the cabin. There was no response from Dick &
Co., even when the larger boys outside kicked and pounded on the door
and shouted abusive taunts.
Every now and then one of Fred's crowd would slip around by the shack
and warm himself before the still glowing embers.
"We might as well cut it, and get out of this," Fred whispered at last
to his companions, after he had summoned them by signs to join him
before the blaze that was left at the site of the shack. "Those
youngsters won't let us into their house, and we'll freeze to death
around here as soon as yonder bonfire is out. We'll get back to your
uncle's Hen. Bert and I have been paying him board money for the crowd,
and he'll be glad enough to see us back. But let's go without making any
noise, and then the youngsters in the cabin will wonder--just simply
wonder--whether we've left or are still around. The result will be that
they won't dare to show their noses outdoors."
So General Fred marched his forces away by stealth. Had he been able to
look into the cabin, though, before departing, he would have felt
chagrined.
For Messrs. Dick & Co. were far from feeling uncomfortable. They had
suddenly discovered, all over again, that they were hungry. The hour
being late, they had put together a light repast, and were now enjoying
it. Then, not having heard anything of the enemy for an hour, Dick
decided upon opening the door to take a peep outside. His five chums,
however, stood at his back, while Greg Holmes held the bar, ready to
drop it into place instantly at need.
As Dick looked out he saw all clear before the cabin. He stole down to
the corner of the log structure, gazing at what was left of the shack
blaze. There was but little of that.
Then Prescott ran around the cabin.
"Nobody in sight," he reported. "The rowdy crowd has gone home--or
probably up to Hen's uncle's house. We won't see 'em again to-night."
"Let's go to bed, then," proposed Tom. "If they come back they can't get
in without making a noise that will wake us."
"Bed will be a first rate idea," nodded Dick, "as soon as we have got in
some wood and water."
This took barely ten minutes. The same space of time was devoted to
building up the fire for the night. Then, well tired, despite all their
excitement, all the members of Dick & Co. were soon sound asleep.
It was eight in the morning when the first one of them awoke.
"Well, we got through the night without having any more of either Ripley
or Fits," remarked Tom, as he dressed.
"Which is worse?" inquired Dave.
"Mr. Fits, by all means," Dick replied. "We can come very close to
thrashing Fred Ripley and his crew. And they can be scared away, too.
But Mr. Fits is downright dangerous."
"If all outsiders, intruders and enemies will only keep away from here
we can have a splendid time after this," sighed Tom.
"We're going to have a good time, anyway," Dick declared stoutly. "So
far, those who have tried to annoy us have succeeded only in furnishing
some excitement for us. Although we've been snowbound most of the time
here we've had anything but a dull time."
"Is it safe for us all to leave camp at one time?" inquired Greg.
"If you're asking me," Dick replied, "I don't believe it is. We can't be
sure that Fits, or Fred Ripley's crowd, won't swoop down here at any
moment. It is just the doubt that will make us feel unwise in leaving
the camp without any one to guard it. As far as Ripley is concerned, I
don't believe he's going to show up here again. The burning of the cook
shack, accidental though it was, has probably been enough to frighten
Fred Ripley so that he and his crowd will soon start for Gridley, if
they haven't headed in that direction already."
"Then suppose you and I stay here this morning," proposed Dave Darrin,
"and let the other fellows get out for this morning?"
"All right," agreed Dick.
"And you'd better keep the shutters over all but one window," suggested
Tom. "You can close and fasten that one quickly, at need. And, when
you're inside the cabin, have the bar on the door and don't open, even
to us, unless you recognize our voices."
"Why, we'll feel as if we were living in a fort, at that rate," Dick
laughed.
"One has to, in the face of an enemy," Greg asserted. "But you can call
it a blockhouse, instead of a fort, Dick, and the logs will look more in
keeping."
Before four of the Grammar School boys departed on a forenoon tramp all
hands turned to and laid in a goodly supply of firewood and water.
In the afternoon Dick and Dave headed a party of young explorers,
leaving Tom and Greg on guard at the cabin.
The day after, morning and afternoon, the Grammar School boys fished
through the ice on the pond, catching enough pickerel and trout to last
famished boys for two meals.
During these two days neither Mr. Fits nor the Ripley crew made an
appearance. Still, the camp was not left unguarded. A few more days of
rare life and sport followed. Then there came a day when, an hour after
sun up, the crust proved too weak to support the Grammar School boys.
"We've a thaw coming," hinted Dave.
"Or else a storm," added Prescott.
"Whatever is coming will be all right," announced Tom, "if it isn't
another big blizzard. A second blizzard, and we'll be snowbound here for
the rest of the winter!"
The softness of the snow kept the Grammar School boys at the camp that
day. Their stock of books came in handy now. By four o'clock that
afternoon it began to rain. Soon it poured, and the downfall kept coming
all night long. It was still raining heavily when the new day came. That
warm rainstorm lasted until nearly evening of the second day. With every
hour of continued rain some of the snow vanished.
"We're going to lose the last bit of the good white stuff," predicted
Tom gloomily.
When the rain ceased at last the prophecy was verified. Throughout the
forest the recent "big snow" was visible only in small patches here and
there.
"The best part of our good time is gone," grumbled Dan.
"Have you fellows been watching the state of provisions lately, I
wonder?" asked Dick.
"What about 'em?" demanded Harry.
"Well, just look over the stock."
"We've enough for two days yet, haven't we?"
"I don't believe what we have will last us through to-morrow," Dick went
on. "Let's appoint ourselves a committee to take account of stock."
"We made a big mistake when we were figuring on what we'd need,"
grumbled Dan.
"No," replied Dick, with a shake of his head. "What we didn't allow for,
in the first place, was boarding a huge eater like Hen Dutcher for a
while. Nor did we plan to have Ripley's crowd here in our absence,
helping themselves and wasting almost as much as they used."
"Whew!" grunted Tom disconsolately. "We've soon got to be hitting the
home trail, haven't we?"
"Or else go to bed to-morrow night on a small allowance of food," nodded
Dick, "and prepared to do without food the day after that."
There was much discussion that night. Tom was for "sticking it out,"
doing the best possible on a diet of fish that might be caught in the
pond. But wiser counsel prevailed. Early next morning Dick and Dave
started out over the bare ground on their way to the nearest house that
had a telephone. It proved to be Constable Dock's house, though the
officer himself was away. Calling up Miller's grocery store, Mr.
Miller's son, Joe, was engaged to come out to camp at once with a wagon.
It was late in the afternoon, however, when Joe arrived. It took another
hour for the boys to get their outfit packed on to the wagon. Then they
seated themselves on top of the load and Joe clucked to the horses.
"So you boys ran across the fit thrower out in the woods, and he gave
you plenty of excitement?" queried Joe, after the start homeward had
been made.
"Yes," nodded Dick, "and we were afraid he'd show up again before we got
through in the woods."
"Why?" asked Joe, bringing the whip down lazily on the flanks of the
horses.
"Because," Dick answered, "we found his loot, and he knew we had found
it. We feared that he'd make another big effort to get back the stuff,
which was valuable."
"But the police have the stuff," Joe went on.
"How do you know that?"
"Why, Ripley's crowd knew it when they got back to Gridley, and the
newspapers got the fact from the Gridley police."
"If Mr. Fits read the Gridley papers," remarked Prescott, thoughtfully,
"then of course he knew he couldn't recover any of his plunder by paying
us a visit. That, I guess, was the only reason why he didn't pay the
cabin another visit."
"That, and the other fact, perhaps," Joe went on, "that the Gridley
papers hinted that the cabin was being shadowed by the police."
"But it wasn't."
"No matter; if your fit throwing gentleman thought he was going to take
any chances of running into police out in these woods, then he wasn't
going to slip his neck into a noose."
"I'm glad he kept away," muttered Tom Reade.
"Unless we could have had the pleasure of jumping on the rascal and
getting the glory of capturing him," flashed Dave Darrin.
"I feel a bit blue over leaving the good old cabin," complained Greg
Holmes.
"So would I," returned Dick, "if it weren't for the fact that Lawyer
Ripley told us we could use the place whenever we choose. That means
that we can go camping there again."
"Maybe Lawyer Ripley will take back what he said when he hears about the
cook shack being burned to the ground," suggested Harry solemnly.
"But we didn't burn it down, anyway," retorted Dick.
"Who did, then?" asked Joe curiously.
None of Dick & Co., however, offered an answer.
After glancing at the boys in turn, Joe decided to hold his peace on
that topic.
It was well after dark when the outfit arrived in Gridley. Joe drove to
Dick's first, with that youngster's belongings. The other boys jumped
from the "rig" and scurried homeward for supper.
"Young man," was Mr. Prescott's greeting of his son, "from all I hear,
you boys went in for a bigger list of adventure than you outlined to us
before starting away."
"It wasn't on account of any wishes of ours, Dad," laughed Dick. "We
fairly had the extra excitement thrust on us."
"I hope you've had a good time, my son, and supper is ready for you,"
remarked Mrs. Prescott practically.
"Run upstairs with your mother and have your meal," directed the elder
Prescott. "I'll watch the store while your mother is thrilling over the
doings of the week."
"Mother," was one of Dick's first questions upstairs, "did Dan's homing
pigeon get back with our message?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then all you parents were easy about our safety."
"Quite. But I can't tell you how worried I was when I heard of your
adventures with that terrible thief."
"He didn't bother us much, mother. We were small boys, but there were
too many of us."
"But suppose he had shot one of you?"
"He didn't have any firearms, mother, until one of the officers made the
mistake of throwing a pistol at him."
Then Dick had to go over all the adventures of the snowbound days.
"As soon as I clear up here," said Mrs. Prescott, "I'm going down into
the store and tell your father some of the exciting things you've been
telling me. And I know, Richard, that you're anxious to get out on the
street and see some of your schoolmates. So run along."
Dick had not been out five minutes before he encountered Dave Darrin.
"Let's go up Main Street and see if we can't run into Tom and some of
the other fellows," proposed Dave.
"Good enough," Dick nodded. But they went a good many blocks without
encountering any of their own crowd.
"Wait; I want to step into this doorway and tie my shoe," said Dave.
Dick took a few steps ahead. Just at the corner he encountered a man
slinking around into Main Street.
"You here?" gasped Dick, then instantly he went down under a blow on his
chest.
"Dave!" gasped Prescott, rather badly winded.
"What?" demanded Darrin, racing up.
"Mr. Fits knocked me down and bolted around that corner," flashed Dick
Prescott.
CHAPTER XXII
HEN DUTCHER IS MODEST
For an instant Dave hesitated, reluctant to leave a comrade injured.
"Get after him!" ordered young Prescott, rising somewhat slowly. "Don't
let the fellow get out of sight."
At that direct command Dave Darrin darted around the corner, going fast
down the side street. A moment later Dick hove into sight, though some
distance to the rear of his now more agile chum.
As he ran Darrin felt like rubbing his eyes. By the aid of the street
lamps he could see fairly well down to the next corner. The fugitive
hadn't had time to cover all that distance in the few moments that he
had been out of view.
"Dave!" called Dick, though his voice at first wasn't very loud. Darrin
didn't hear, though a moment later he halted, glancing about him and
back at his chum. Prescott was beckoning.
"He has darted in somewhere on this block," muttered Dick, as his chum
reached him.
"Yes," Dave agreed; "but where?"
"That's too much for us to guess."
"What are we going to do about it?"
"I don't know," Dick confessed disappointedly. "I hate to see Mr. Fits
slip away from us like this, though."
"Well, he has done it, anyway," Dave declared. "I'm afraid there isn't
much that we can do now."
"We can go down to the next corner, and back on the other side," Dick
Prescott proposed. "Look back frequently, Dave, and, if you see Mr. Fits
dart out of any house or doorway, then yell to me, and we'll both turn
and race after the fellow."
"A nice sprinter you'll make, after that knock down blow on the chest,"
remarked Darrin dryly.
"Oh, I'm getting a little more wind back every minute," Dick declared
cheerily. "I could run, now, if I had to, and in two minutes from now
I'll be able to do a whole lot better. Come along. You do the turning to
look backward, and I'll use my eyes in front of us."
In this fashion they explored the entire block on both sides. Their
slow, thorough search at last brought them back to Main Street, much
puzzled and not a little discouraged.
"What now?" inquired Dave.
"We've done all we can," Dick replied, "except find a policeman and tell
him that we've seen Fits back in town."
"It's strange that he should come back to Gridley," murmured Darrin.
"You'd think that the fellow would be anxious to give the town a wide
berth."
"Undoubtedly he has his reasons. But--Dave, there's a policeman. Let's
hurry and tell him."
In another moment the two Grammar School boys were engaged in reciting
what had happened to a uniformed member of the night police force of
Gridley.
"There's no time to be lost," declared the policeman. "For a matter as
important as this I'll leave my beat and notify the station house."
"Can we give you any further help?" Dick asked.
"Not a bit, my lad, thank you, unless you see Fitsey again."
As soon as the policeman had gone, Darrin asked rather seriously:
"Dick, are you sure that it really was Fits, and no mistake?"
"Of course I am. Why?"
"Oh, nothing, only it seems so strange to me that the fellow should
really venture back into the one town where the police are really
anxious to land him."
"It was Mr. Fits that I saw," Prescott insisted. "Besides, no one else
would want to knock me down."
"That's so," Dave admitted. "Well, I hope that the police find the
rascal."
"It's a lot more likely that we, or some of our fellows, will do the
finding," laughed Prescott. "We've done all the finding so far."
At this moment a hand smote Dick heavily between the shoulders, while
Tom Reade's laughing voice demanded:
"Fellows, how does home cooking seem again? Isn't it great?"
Harry Hazelton was with Tom.
"We've almost forgotten how good the home cooking is," Dick answered.
"We've just had something else to think about."
Then the story of the latest meeting with Mr. Fits was told.
"Jupiter!" breathed Tom excitedly. "Say, I wish we could run that fellow
down. I'm just aching to pay him back for the night of ghost scare that
he gave us out in the forest!"
"I'd like well enough to see him caught," Dick agreed. "But I can't say
that I want to do it myself."
"Why not?" challenged Tom.
"Well, he's a powerful big brute, and I doubt if we four could handle
Mr. Fits."
"Huh!" retorted Tom. "I'd like to try it, anyway. And, if we had the
chance, and missed, four of us could make noise enough to bring a few
men to our aid."
"That part would be all right," Dick agreed. "If we see the rascal again
it will be our best move to capture him by yelling for a few men to come
up to where we are."
"Hullo, you!" was the greeting of Toby Ross, as that schoolboy stopped
and looked at the returned campers. "Have a good time?"
"Fine!" answered four voices at once.
"But," Toby continued, "I never thought there was that much stuff in Hen
Dutcher."
"What stuff? What kind of stuff!" demanded Tom.
"Why, Hen is back in Gridley," Toby answered, "and, from the tales he
has been telling, he was the whole life and safety of your crowd out in
the forest."
"Come to think of it," Tom replied soberly, "I believe he was."
"Then Hen's yarns are true?" asked Toby.
"They must be," Dick responded. "Who ever knew Hen to tell an untruth?"
"Say, stop your fooling, won't you?" begged Toby. "What did Hen actually
do out in the forest."
"Why, he ate at least his share," asserted Tom.
"And got his share of sleep," Darrin added.
"He also did his full share of housework," Hazelton supplied, with a
grin.
"We're glad he had such a good time," Dick went on politely.
"But did he really do any of the hero stunts that he's telling about?"
Toby persisted.
"Not knowing what he's telling about, I really can't say," Prescott
answered.
"What is Hen claiming to have done, anyway?" Darrin inquired.
"Oh, Hen says--but come along and hear him for yourselves," Toby
finished. "Hen is just a little way down the street, holding forth to a
lot of fellows."
"Come along, then," nodded Tom. "Perhaps we can slip in behind Hen
without his seeing us, and then we'll know all that he did while we were
snowbound."
Toby piloted them. A block and a half down Main Street a group of some
twenty Grammar School boys stood, gathered closely around a central
object. When Dick and his chums slipped up to the outer edge of the
crowd they discovered that central object to be Hen Dutcher, whose back
was turned to them.
Though Hen didn't know who was now near him, several of the other boys
did, and they passed the wink.
"Hen, tell us again just how it was that you cowed Mr. Fits when he
first showed up at the cabin," urged one of the juvenile bystanders.
"Huh! There wasn't much to cow," retorted Hen airily. "Dick Prescott and
his chums were pretty well scared, I can tell you. But there was an air
rifle standing in the corner, and I knew I could get it if I needed it.
So, when Fits ordered Dick Prescott to get him some supper, and Dick was
just going to do it, I stepped up, as cool as anything, and I said: 'No,
sir; Dick Prescott won't get you any supper in this camp. You'll get out
of here, mister,' says I, 'and you'll be quick about it, too.' Well,
when Fits looked into my eyes and saw that he couldn't scare me any, he
began to whine, and says: 'All right, sir; I won't insist about any
supper, but I must sleep here to-night. I'd freeze to death out in the
big snowstorm.' 'You won't sleep here, any more than you'll eat here,'
says I to Fits. 'But you can sleep out in the cook shack behind this
cabin, if you want to.' Fits, he tried to beg off, but when he found he
couldn't, he just marched out of the cabin like a man and went to the
cook shack."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 | 10 |
11 |
12