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CHAPTER V
THE BLIZZARD
“Now for some more game!” cried Ned, as Frank tied the legs of the turkey and slung the bird across his back in true hunter fashion.
“Guess we’ll have to tramp a long distance before we get any more,” remarked Fenn. “All the turkeys for a mile around heard the guns and they’ll keep to deep cover.”
However the boys, ever hopeful, resumed their tramp. They found plenty of turkey tracks but no birds, and, after covering several miles, decided to make their way back to camp, as it was getting dark early on account of the storm.
They got the right direction, by means of the compass, and were within about a mile of where they had set up the tent when Bart, who was ahead, suddenly halted.
“What is it?” asked Fenn, as he saw his chum aiming his gun up through the low branches of a tree near which he had stopped.
For answer Bart fired. There was a flutter of big wings, a protesting gobble or two, and a big turkey cock fell to the ground.
“There, I knew I’d get him!” Bart cried as he ran forward and secured his prize. “I saw him roosting up in the branches, and I fired before he could get away. I knew I’d get him!”
“You don’t think this is the same one you fired at a while ago, do you?” asked Ned.
“Well, it’s one just as big and just as good,” retorted Bart. “I’m satisfied if he is.”
He slung the gobbler, which was a large fat one, over his shoulder and went on, much pleased with himself and his new gun.
“Guess we’ll have roast turkey to-night all right,” Frank remarked as they trudged along.
“I guess not, if I have to cook it!” exclaimed Fenn. “It’s too late to dress any birds to-night. Canned stuff and coffee for yours.”
“Well, to-morrow then,” Frank insisted. “We’ve got to have a turkey dinner while we’re in the woods.”
It was almost dark when they reached camp. They lighted some lanterns, and built a big fire, while Fenn, who had been elected cook, got supper ready. The other boys cleared out the tent for sleeping purposes.
When the boys awoke in the morning it was to find the ground covered about a foot deep with snow. The flakes had ceased falling, but it was much colder, and there was a stiff wind. Gray clouds covered the sky, and altogether it was rather a cheerless prospect.
But the boys’ spirits were proof against almost anything. With some hot coffee to warm them up, and some hot canned meat, which Fenn prepared, they were ready for another day of tramping through the woods after game.
“What do you say to moving camp?” suggested Bart. “I’m afraid we’ve scared from around here whatever there was in the way of turkeys and rabbits. We can put our stuff on the sled and pull it through the snow.”
This was agreed to, and soon the runners were adjusted over the wheels, and the four boys were pulling the sleigh with the camp outfit.
They went slowly, picking their way as best they could among the trees. On a down grade, where two were enough at the rope, Bart and Frank went ahead to see if they could observe any signs of game. Frank killed a fat rabbit, but Bart fired at one and missed.
They went about four miles farther into the forest and, as they saw turkey tracks, they decided to camp there.
“We’ll have an early dinner, put the turkey hen on to roast, and go off hunting the rest of the day,” decided Fenn.
The turkey was prepared in a somewhat rough fashion and put to roast in the oven of the portable stove. When it was nearly done the fire was allowed to cool down.
“All we have to do when we get back is to start a small blaze and we’ll have hot turkey,” explained Fenn. Some dry wood was placed within the tent to keep it safe in case it began to snow again, and, fastening the flaps, the boys set off.
They had better luck this time, and managed to get a turkey apiece, though they were only hens, and not very large.
“We ought to each get a big gobbler before we go back home,” Bart said. “You fellows want to look alive. I’ve got mine.”
“You had all the luck,” retorted Ned.
But the gobblers seemed too wise to come within the reach of the boys’ guns, and when it came time to make back-tracks for camp there was none numbered among the slain. Several more rabbits had been secured, however, and the boys were well satisfied.
“My mouth waters for that roast turkey,” exclaimed Ned, as he tramped through the snow. “I want a piece of the breast and some of the brown skin. Just a bit of dressing, please, and a spoonful of gravy!”
“Let up!” cried Bart. “I’m half starved!”
Ned’s anticipations of the turkey were fully realized. It may not have been done just to the turn a French chef would call proper, but the boys thought they had never eaten anything half so good. There was little left when they had finished.
“We’d better circle around so’s to fetch up near where Jim’s to meet us to-night,” remarked Bart as they crawled out of the blankets Wednesday morning. The cold had increased and the wind was blowing half a gale.
The tent was struck, after a hasty breakfast, and, with the other things, not forgetting the game, was packed upon the sled. The boys started off, intending to make a large circle and bring up that evening where Jim had left them, in time to meet him. They would not erect the tent again.
They managed to kill several hen turkeys, another gobbler, which fell to Ned’s gun, and a couple of rabbits, but most of the game seemed to have disappeared, and there was no more in the vicinity of where the boys tramped, dragging the sled after them.
They halted for dinner in a dense part of the forest, and, after the meal, started for the place where the corduroy road ended. They judged it to be about six miles from where they were, and knew it would take them about until night-fall to reach it.
It was hard work, pulling the sled, but the exercise kept them warm, and they trudged on, plunging into drifts which the wind quickly raised. It started to snow again and the flakes began to blow across their path whipped into stinging particles by the force of the gale. They were enveloped in a white cloud through which they could see only dimly.
“Say, it’s getting worse and worse!” exclaimed Ned, as he paused for breath after a particularly stiff bit of pulling.
“Boys, it’s a regular blizzard, that’s what it is,” cried Bart. “We’re certainly in for it now. I don’t believe Jim will come for us in a storm like this.”
“If it isn’t a blizzard it’s the best imitation of one I ever saw,” remarked Frank. “What are we going to do?”
“Only thing is to keep on,” replied Bart.
“Are we going in the right direction?” asked Ned. “Fenn, suppose you take a look at the compass.”
Fenn, who carried the little instrument, reached in his overcoat pocket for it. He did not find it. Then he looked in several other pockets.
“What’s the matter? Haven’t lost it, have you?” asked Bart.
“I’m afraid so. Didn’t I give it to you, Ned, this morning?”
“Never saw it,” replied Ned.
Fenn made a more thorough search. The compass was not to be found. The boys stood there helplessly, in the midst of the howling storm, which was now at its height.
The snow was a blinding, scurrying, mass of flakes which stung their faces like needles. Overhead the trees were bending to the blast and the gale was roaring through the branches. There was no path. Ten feet ahead it looked like a blank white wall.
“Boys, we’re lost in the woods, and the blizzard is getting worse!” cried Bart, almost having to shout to make himself heard above the storm.
CHAPTER VI
A LONELY CABIN
“What’s to be done?” asked Fenn.
“Keep on! We may find the place where we were to meet Jim,” advised Frank.
“No,” Bart said. “That would be foolish. Jim would never come for us on such a night. Besides, we don’t know which way to go. We’d better camp here until the storm blows over. We’ve got everything we need, but it’s not going to be much fun under a tent in this weather.”
“Let’s get down more in a hollow,” suggested Fenn. “We’re on a hill here and get the full force of the wind. If we go on a bit we may find a better place.”
“Good idea!” exclaimed Bart. “Come on, fellows!”
He seized hold of the sled rope and began to pull, the others joining him. There was no choice of direction, so they turned to get the wind on their backs.
With grim perseverance they kept on. The wind seemed fairly to carry them forward, though it was hard to struggle through the drifts they encountered every once in a while. As they had no particular path to take, they avoided the big hummocks of snow as much as they could.
“I’ll have to stop!” declared Fenn, after a bit of hard pulling. “My wind’s giving out!”
“I wish the wind up above would,” murmured Bart as he tried to peer through the clouds of flakes to see where they were.
“Let’s stay here,” suggested Fenn. “If we’ve got to camp in the storm this place is as good as any.”
“That’s what I say,” remarked Frank. “This seems to be well sheltered.”
There came a momentary let-up to the gale. The snow did not seem to fall so thickly and the boys eagerly looked around them.
“There’s something over that way!” cried Ned, pointing to the left. “It looked like a barn or house. Let’s try for it!”
Then the wind swept down on them again, blotting out, in the swirl of flakes, whatever Ned had seen. But he had an idea of the direction it was in, and started off toward it.
“Here, come back and help pull the sled!” cried Bart, and the four boys, led by Ned, dragged the heavy load toward the spot where the building had been noticed.
They did not see it again until they were within ten feet of it, and then made out a lonely cabin in the midst of a clearing in the woods. The snow was half way up to the first floor window sills.
“There’s some one inside!” shouted Bart, as he saw smoke curling from the chimney. “Knock on the door! I’m half frozen!”
But there was no need to knock. The door was opened and a little girl peered out.
“Can we come in and get warm?” asked Ned. “We’re lost in the storm.”
“Who is it?” asked a woman’s voice, as she came to the door.
“We were camping out,” explained Bart, “and the storm caught us as we were about to go home. We live in Darewell.”
“Come in!” the woman exclaimed. “Our cabin is poor enough but it is better than the woods in such a storm. I’m sorry we can’t offer you anything to eat, but we have only a little for ourselves and there’s no telling when we’ll get more.”
“And to-morrow’s Thanksgiving,” murmured Ned in a low voice.
The boys stamped the snow from their feet and entered the cabin. There were two rooms downstairs and two up. In the apartment they entered was a stove in which a wood fire burned. In one corner stood a table with a few dishes on it, and there was a cupboard. Some chairs completed the furnishings. Close to the fire, clad in a ragged dress, sat a little girl. The boys needed but one glance to see that the family was in dire straits.
“My name is Perry,” the woman said. “I live here with my two daughters. The town of Kirkville supports us. The poormaster brought some food last week but he hasn’t been here this week, and we are afraid he can not come because of the storm. Otherwise I could offer you something to eat,” and she turned aside her head to hide her tears.
“Don’t cry, mother,” exclaimed the child who had been sitting near the fire. “We’re not very hungry, and maybe the snow will stop. We had a nice Thanksgiving last year – and – and – ”
“I’m afraid we’ll have a poor one to-morrow,” Mrs. Perry replied. “But boys, come closer to the fire. You must be cold. At least we have plenty of wood. That is free, and my daughters gathered a lot the other day in the woods.”
“Mrs. Perry – ahem, ma’am – that is – er – I mean – Oh, hang it! Ain’t any of you going to help a fellow out!” exclaimed Ned, clearing his throat with unnecessary violence. “What I mean is we’ve got a lot of things to eat, on our sled. We’d be glad to have you – Oh, here! Boys come on out and bring in some of the things!” and before the astonished woman knew what was happening Ned and his chums were out in the snow fairly tearing the things off the sled. In they trooped again, bearing turkeys, rabbits, and a lot of the camp food they had not eaten.
“Oh, it’s just like Santa Claus!” cried the little girl. “I knew we’d have Thanksgiving, mommey!”
But Mrs. Perry was crying, with her head down on the table.
Indeed the room did look as if it was ready for some sort of holiday feast. It was fairly crowded with the things the boys had brought in.
“I don’t – don’t know what to say,” Mrs. Perry exclaimed, as she dried her eyes. “Are you sure you can spare so much?”
“Spare it? Say we’ve eaten so much lately we’ll be sick!” broke in Bart, with a laugh. “Now we’ll make a better fire, and if you’ll get some of these turkeys and rabbits ready you can have a dinner. There’s some other things, – canned stuff, you know.”
By this time the older girl, whose name, the boys learned, was Jane, was placing some of the things aside. Her mother helped her, while Mary, the younger daughter, seemed, from mere astonishment, unable to stir. She sat gazing at the pile of good things as if they might suddenly vanish.
The boys brought in more wood and began to help with the meal. In a little while they had a good one ready, using some of the camp food, while the turkeys and rabbits were put away for the next day.
The boys told something of themselves, and, in turn, Mrs. Perry related how her husband had died a few years before, leaving her with a small farm, and three children, a boy and the two girls. The farm, she said, had been taken because they could not pay the interest on the mortgage, and there had been nothing left for them.
The town gave them the use of the little cabin, and they managed to make something of a living, for Mrs. Perry did sewing for women in the village, which was about three miles away. They had a little garden patch, and raised some fruit.
“You said you – you had a son?” asked Ned gently. “Is he – ”
“No, he isn’t dead,” replied Mrs. Perry sadly. “Poor boy, I wish I knew where he was. He tried to help us, as much as he could,” she went on. “But there was no work for him around here, and so he decided to try and get work. He went to the city and wrote me that he was going to sea. He said he had a good position, and would send me some money.”
“Did he?” asked Bart.
“I have never heard from him since,” the widow replied. “I’m afraid he is dead,” and she began to cry again.
“Perhaps not,” suggested Ned, as cheerfully as he could. “Maybe he is on a long voyage and can’t write. Or perhaps he has written and the letters have gone astray. I would not worry. He may come back.”
“I think Willie is alive,” remarked Jane. “He was a very proud boy, and perhaps when he found he could not earn money enough to send home, he decided to stay away until he could. Maybe he is ashamed to come home.”
“Oh, he knows I would forgive him! I would be glad to see him if he never had a penny!” exclaimed Mrs. Perry.
“I’ll bet he’ll turn up all right,” put in Fenn. “He’s only waiting until he can come back rich.”
“It’s been about a year now,” the widow went on. “Willie was fifteen when he left, and he’d be sixteen now. It’s his first birthday away from home.”
The boys did their best to comfort her, and she seemed to feel a little better after telling her troubles. The girls were certainly more cheerful after the meal.
“You boys had better stay all night,” Mrs. Perry suggested. “The storm is getting worse. If you don’t mind being crowded we can accommodate you.”
“If we can sleep on the floor in the kitchen we’ll be glad to,” Ned answered.
“I have Willie’s bed, which no one uses, and there is another,” the widow replied. “I have always kept his room ready for him.”
“Then we’ll stay for the night, thank you,” Fenn said.
The storm did appear to be getting worse, or else the howling of the wind about the lonely cabin made it seem so.
CHAPTER VII
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING
“Hurrah! It’s stopped snowing!” exclaimed Ned as he looked out of the little window on the second floor of the cabin the next morning. “Maybe we can get home for Thanksgiving!”
“I hope so,” Bart answered. “The folks will be worried. Wonder if Jim is waiting for us?”
“Not much! Jim’s too fond of his comfort to come out in such weather,” said Frank.
The boys found the widow had breakfast ready for them. She told them their best plan would be to go to Kirkville, which could be reached by the road leading from the cabin. From that village it was seven miles to Darewell.
“It’s going to be a long pull,” remarked Ned. “But I guess we can make it.”
“Let’s go out and see how the snow is,” suggested Bart.
They found though it was quite deep it was dry and soft so that tramping through it, and pulling the sled, would not be so great an exertion as it otherwise would have been.
“We’ll have to take it easy, and we may get home in time for dinner,” said Frank. “Pity, though, we can’t have some of our own game cooked for the feast, but we’ll not arrive in time.”
“I think we’ll leave most of it with her. What do you say?” asked Bart, and he nodded toward the cabin, outside of which the boys stood.
“Sure thing!” exclaimed Fenn. “I wish we could find her son for her.”
“Maybe we can, some day,” remarked Ned. “But we’d better go in to breakfast and then get started.”
“I hardly feel like taking all this,” Mrs. Perry said as she looked at the rabbits and turkeys the boys left. They had reserved a turkey and some rabbits each but left all the rest. “It hardly seems right,” she added.
“Why it’s no more than we owe you,” said Bart quickly. “We never could have stayed all night out in that blizzard in our tent. I don’t know what we would have done if it hadn’t been that we saw your house.”
“I only wish I had had better accommodations to offer you,” the widow said. “But we have nothing except what charity gives us. In the spring Jane hopes to get a place to work.”
“Perhaps we could help you,” suggested Ned. “My father knows a number of business men and he might get Jane a place in a store.”
“Oh, if he only would!” exclaimed the girl. “I do so want to help mother. I must take Willie’s place – until he comes back,” she added a little sadly.
“My poor boy,” Mrs. Perry exclaimed with a sigh. “I wonder if he will have as nice a Thanksgiving dinner as we will, thanks to the generosity of you boys.”
“We’ll hope so,” said Fenn. “So you haven’t any idea where he is?”
“Not the least. He used to say he wanted to see New York, as I suppose all boys do. But I hardly believe he is there. I wish I knew where he was. He should come home, pride or not, no matter if he hasn’t a cent.”
“New York,” murmured Ned. “I expect to go there soon. I might see Willie.”
“Oh! If you only could!” exclaimed Jane. “Tell him to come home at once. You can easily recognize him. He has a little red scar on his right cheek. He fell and cut himself on a stone when he was a baby.”
“New York is a big place,” said Mrs. Perry. “You are not very likely to see my boy. But if you should – tell him his mother prays for him – every night!” and, unable to keep her feelings in control the widow burst into tears.
It was rather an awkward moment for the boys, but little Mary saved the day.
“I’m going to New York!” she exclaimed. “I’m goin’ right now with these nice boys. They can pull me on their sled!” and she ran to get her bonnet and cloak.
This raised a laugh, and Mrs. Perry recovered her composure.
“Not now, dear,” she said. “Sometime, maybe,” and she smiled through her tears.
“Well, we must be going,” remarked Fenn. “We’re ever so much obliged to you.”
“Indeed, I am in your debt,” the widow replied. “If you are ever out this way again come and see us.”
“We will!” the boys cried as they put on their things and started off with the sled. It was lighter now that the load of camp food and much of the game was off, though the boys found it heavy enough before they had gone a couple of miles. But they were determined to reach home as soon as possible and kept on.
“Pretty tough, eh?” remarked Ned, after a silence of several minutes, as he nodded back in the direction of the cabin.
“You’re right,” replied Bart. “Glad we could do something to help ’em.”
The boys found, on inquiring from a farmer they met, that, by taking a short cut through the woods, they could get on the road to Darewell without going to Kirkville. This would save them a mile, and, though they might be able to hire a horse and wagon in the village, they thought it better to take the short cut.
They were just turning from the woods into the highway that led to Darewell, which was about five miles away, when they heard the jingle of sleigh bells back of them. Turning they saw coming along a big sled drawn by two horses. A boy was on the seat.
“Here’s a chance for a ride!” exclaimed Ned. “We’re in luck. We can offer to pay him to take us home.”
They waited until the sled was close to them and hailed the driver. He turned and they saw it was their old enemy, Sandy Merton. Sandy had been employed by the men in the secret which the four boys were instrumental in bringing to disclosure, but had lost his position and gone to work for a farmer.
“Oh, it’s you, eh?” asked Sandy with a sneer, as he saw the four chums.
There was a moment’s hesitation among them. They did not relish the idea of asking him for a ride. But still less did they like the thought of pulling their heavy sled five miles.
“Look here, Sandy!” exclaimed Ned. “This is a strict business proposition. Will you drive us to Darewell for four dollars, and take our sled? That’s a dollar apiece, and it’s more than livery prices. We’re not asking you out of friendship.”
“No, and I guess you’d better not!” exclaimed Sandy. “Not the way you acted toward me!”
“We never injured you in any way!” said Bart. “But we’re not going to discuss that now. Will you give us a lift for money, or won’t you?”
“Well I won’t, and that’s my answer!” cried Sandy, in sudden and unreasonable rage. “You fellows think you’re mighty smart. But this time is where I’ve got the upper hand. I wouldn’t take you to Darewell for ten dollars apiece. You can go off hunting and enjoy yourself while other folks work. Then because you get lost in the woods you think every one you meet has got to give you a ride. Not much! You can walk to Darewell!” And whipping up his horses Sandy drove on, laughing loudly at the predicament of the chums.
“Might have known better than to ask him,” murmured Ned. “Well, fellows, I guess we’ll have to walk.”
It was easier traveling in the road than through the woods and across the fields, but still it was hard work. However, they managed to get a lift from a farmer when they were within a mile of town. They hitched their sled to the back of his sleigh and the man obligingly took them to Bart’s house.
“Oh! There are the boys!” exclaimed Alice as she looked from the window. “Look, Jennie, they have some game. I can see the turkey feathers!” she added to her friend, who had called.
“Here we are!” cried Bart, as his sister and her chum came running down the front walk. “Just in time for dinner!”
Bart wanted his chums to come into his house, but they were in a hurry to tell their folks of their safe arrival, so, shouldering their guns, and dividing the game, the boys separated.
