Kitabı oku: «The Corner House Girls Snowbound», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XX – FOLLOWING ANOTHER TRAIL
After all the activities of the forenoon both by the older boys and girls of the vacation party at Red Deer Lodge, and by the children as well, the soft snow was considerably marked up by footprints around the premises.
Ike M’Graw and Neale O’Neil, searching for prints of the feet of those who they thought had left the vicinity of the house early that morning, struck directly off for the edge of the clearing.
“The best we can do,” M’Graw declared, “is to follow the line of the woods clean around the clearing. Somewhere, whoever ’tis got that fox and lifted the canned goods, must have struck into the woods. They ain’t hidin’ in the barns or anywhere here. I’ve been searchin’ them. That’s certain.”
Neale had very bright eyes, and not much could escape them; but the snow was coming down fast now and even he could not distinguish marks many yards ahead.
Here and there they beheld footprints; but always examination proved them to be of somebody who belonged at the Lodge. The prints in the snow Luke and his sister and Ruth had made soon after breakfast fooled Neale for a moment, but not for long.
They saw the woodsman’s big prints, too, where he had been looking for the marks of the fox hunter. There were the marks Neale himself and Agnes had made when they had followed the “deer.”
All these various marks bothered the searchers; and all the time, too, the snow was falling and making the identification of the various prints of feet the more difficult.
“This here’s worse than nailing the animals that they say went into the ark that time Noah set sail for Ararat,” declared Ike, chuckling. “Whoever followed them critters up to the gangplank must have been some mixed up —
“Hello! What’s this?”
They had come around behind the sheds. Here was the entrance to the road on which Neale and Luke with the three older girls had coasted that forenoon. The woodsman was pointing to marks in the snow, now being rapidly filled in. Neale said:
“Oh, we were sliding on this hill, you know.”
“Uh-huh? Who was?”
“Five of us. With a big bobsled.”
“Now, you don’t tell me that bobsled made them marks,” interposed the old man. “I know that bobsled.”
“Why – I – ”
“Them runner marks was made by little Ralph Birdsall’s scootin’ sled. I know that, too. Who’s gone up to slide this afternoon?”
“That must be the kids!” exclaimed Neale. “I wonder if Ruth knows they are out here playing! I remember now I didn’t see them at the front of the house.”
“You don’t suppose they’ve gone far?”
“Oh, I guess they will come to no harm around here. Ruth would not let them go away from the Lodge to play.”
“Humph!” muttered the old man.
But he went on. There was really no reason for Neale to be worried about the children. They were almost always well behaved. At least, they seldom disobeyed.
Besides, it was only a few minutes later when Mr. Howbridge, well muffled against the storm, appeared with Tom Jonah on a leash. The old woodsman had just got down on his knees in the snow to examine two lines of faint impressions that left the path John’s footprints had made to the farther shed.
“Now, what’s this? A deer jumped out here – or what?”
Neale waited and Mr. Howbridge held the dog back. Ike got up and followed the half-filled impressions a little farther. They headed directly for the thicker woods to the north of the Lodge premises.
“Might have been feet – small feet. And two sets of ’em,” said Ike. “Hi, Mister! did you find anything up in that closet belongin’ to the twins?”
“Here is a pair of bed slippers. Knitted ones. They are much too small for a grown person,” the lawyer declared.
M’Graw took the articles thoughtfully into his big hands. “Humph! Look like little Missie’s slippers. Certainly do. Roweny, you know. Wonder if this old dog knows anything.”
He offered the slippers to Tom Jonah to sniff. The dog had been used to following a scent in times past; often they would send him after Dot or Tess or Sammy. He snuffed eagerly at the knitted shoes.
“Don’t know how strong the scent is on ’em. It’s been some time, p’r’aps, since little Roweny wore ’em. But – ”
Tom Jonah whined, sniffed again, and then lifted up his muzzle and barked, straining at the leash.
“Looks like he understands,” said the old man, reaching for the leash and taking the bight of it from Mr. Howbridge’s hand. “Good dog! Now, go to it. These here footprints – if that’s what they are – are fillin’ in fast.”
Tom Jonah put his nose to the marks in the snow. He sniffed, threw some of the light snow about with his nose, and started off. He followed the faint trail into the woods. But Neale doubted if the dog followed by scent.
Once in the thicket the marks were only visible here and there. The fresh snow was sifting down faster and faster. The dog leaped from one spot to another, whining, and eagerly seeking to pick up the scent.
“It’s awful unlucky this here snow commenced as it has. Hi! I don’t see what we can do,” sighed Ike.
“Do you really believe those marks were the twins’ footsteps?”
“I do. I believe they was in the house when your folks came, Mr. Howbridge,” M’Graw said. “But now – ”
Tom Jonah halted, threw up his shaggy head, and howled mournfully.
“Oh, don’t, Tom Jonah!” cried Neale O’Neil. “It sounds like – like somebody was dead!”
“Or lost, eh?” suggested Ike. “Ain’t no use. He – nor a better dog – couldn’t follow a scent through such snow. We’re too late. But I’d like to know where them children went, if these is them!”
They turned back toward the Lodge, rather disheartened. If the two Birdsall children, who had been left to the care of Mr. Howbridge, were really up here alone in the wilderness – and perhaps shelterless at this time – what might not happen to them? What would be the end of this strange and menacing situation?
Nobody spoke after M’Graw expressed himself until they came to the path on which they had previously seen the marks of the small sled and the footprints of Sammy and the two youngest Corner House girls. These traces were now entirely obliterated. It was snowing heavily and the wind was rising.
“Hi gorry!” ejaculated the old woodsman, “how about those other children? Are they at home where they ought to be?”
“Whom do you mean?” asked the lawyer, rather startled.
But Neale understood. He looked sharply about. Not an impression in the snow but that of their own feet was visible.
“I’ll go and see if the sled is returned to the place they got it from,” he said, and dashed away to the shed.
Before Mr. Howbridge and M’Graw had reached the Lodge Neale O’Neil came tearing after them.
“Oh, wait! Wait!” he shouted. “They haven’t come back with the sled. What do you suppose can have happened to Sammy and Tess and Dot?”
CHAPTER XXI – ROWDY
About the time Neale O’Neil was asking his very pertinent question about the whereabouts of Sammy and Tess and Dot, that trio had stopped, breathless and not a little frightened, in a big drift at what seemed the bottom of a deep hole.
The snow swirled about them so, and they seemed to have come so far down from the place where they had pushed off on the sled, that they believed it was a deep hole; and there seemed no possibility of getting out of it.
“I – I guess,” quavered Dot, “that we’ll just have to lie right down here and let the snow cover us all – all up.”
“I do wish, child, when you get into trouble that you wouldn’t give up all hope, right first off!” exclaimed Tess, rather exasperated at her sister. “Of course we are not going to give up and lie down in this snow.”
“Of course not!” echoed Sammy Pinkney.
Nevertheless, Sammy experienced a chill up and down his spine, and the short hairs at the back of his neck stiffened. It was borne upon his mind all of a sudden that they were lost – utterly lost! He could not understand how they had got off of the straight path to Red Deer Lodge; but he was very sure that they had done so and, as far as he knew, they were miles and miles away from that shelter and from their friends.
Yet there seemed nothing to do but keep on through the snow – as long as they could press forward. Tess was quite as plucky as he made believe to be. And they could haul Dot a little way at a time on the sled.
“But we’re going on, Sammy, without getting anywhere,” was Tess’ very wise observation. “I think we ought to scrouge down under something until the snow stops.”
“Just like the Babes in the Woods,” wailed Dot, who knew all the nursery stories.
“Do be still!” cried her sister, quite tartly. “Sammy and I are going to find you a nice place to stop, Dot.”
“Well, I hope it’s a place with a fire in it, ’cause I’m cold,” complained the smallest Corner House girl.
They all wished for a fire and shelter, but the older ones feared with reason that both comforts would not be immediately found. Sammy had not ventured forth this time prepared for all emergencies, as he had the time that Dot and he ran away to sail piratically the canal. He had no means of making a fire, even if he could find fuel.
Sammy was not without fertility of ideas, however; and these to a practical end. It must never be said of him, when the lost party got back to Red Deer Lodge, that he had not done his duty toward his companions.
He saw that the lower branches of some of the big spruce trees swept the snow – indeed, their ends were drifted over in places. Under those trees were shelters that would break both the wind and the snow. He said this to Tess, and she agreed.
“But we must keep a hole open to look out of,” she said. “Otherwise we won’t see the folks when they come hunting for us.”
“Je-ru-sa-lem! If they come along this road while it’s snowing like this lookin’ for us, we’d never see ’em,” muttered the boy.
But he kept this opinion to himself. Vigorous action claimed Sammy Pinkney almost immediately. While Dot “sniffled,” as he called it, on the half-buried sled, Sammy started to dig under the boughs of a tree near at hand.
The wind seemed to be less boisterous here, but the snow was drifting rapidly. Back of the tree the steep hillside rose abruptly, somewhat sheltering the spot.
Sammy burrowed through the drift like a dog seeking a rabbit. He found a way between two branches of the spruce, over which the snow had packed hard at a previous fall. He had to break away fronds of the tough branches to open a hole into the dark interior.
“Come on!” he shouted, half smothered by the snow he was pawing out. “Here’s a hole.”
“Oh, Sammy! suppose there should be something in there?” gasped Tess, her lips close to his ear.
At this suggestion Master Sammy drew back with some precipitation.
“Aw, Tess! what d’you want to say such things to a feller for?” he growled. “If there is anything in there we’ll find it out soon enough.”
Dot’s sharp ears had heard something of this. She shrieked:
“Oh! Is it mice? I am afraid of mice, and I won’t go in there till you drive them all out, Sammy.”
“Je-ru-sa-lem!” murmured Sammy, with vast disgust. “Don’t girls beat everything?”
“I don’t care! I don’t like mice,” reiterated the smallest Corner House girl.
“Huh!” declared Sammy, wickedly, “maybe there’ll be wolves under there.”
“Wolfs? Well, I haven’t my Alice-doll here, so I don’t care about wolfs. But mice I am afraid of!”
At that Sammy took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and dived out of sight. He found that there was quite a sharp incline over hard snow to the bottom of the hole. All around the trunk of the tree, and next to it, was bare, hard ground. It made a roomy shelter, and it was just as warm as any house could be without a fire.
There was a quantity of dry and dead branches under here to scratch him and tear at his clothing. Sammy broke these off as he crawled around the tree, making the way less difficult for the little girls when they should enter.
A little light entered by the hole down which he had plunged. It made the interior of the strange shelter of a murky brownness, not at all helpful in “seeing things.”
Sammy was quite sure there was no wolf housed in here; but about the mice or other small rodents he was not so sure.
However, he called to the little girls cheerfully to come down, and Dot immediately scrambled in, feet first. Tess followed her sister with less precipitation. Like Sammy, she felt the burden of their situation much more than did Dot. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,” was Dot’s opinion.
Sammy crawled out again and rescued the sled which was already buried in the snow. He dragged it to the opening and left it right over the hole so as to keep the snow from drifting in upon them.
“But it makes it so dark, Sammy!” said Tess, a little sharply.
“Wait a while. You can see better pretty soon. Your eyes get used to the dark – just like you went down cellar at night for a hod of coal.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t!” declared Dot. “But I’m not afraid of the dark. It’s nothing you can feel.”
So they were very cozy and fairly warm under the tree. Soon the snow had heaped so thickly over the mouth of their shelter that they could not even hear the wind.
They had eaten a good lunch. Sammy had some nuts in his pockets. It was now about four o’clock. They were not likely to suffer for anything needful for some time. And, of course, neither of the three thought that their stay under the spruce tree would be for long.
“If the snow doesn’t stop pretty soon, and so we can get out and find the way home, Neale O’Neil and Aggie will come for us,” Dot said, with considerable cheerfulness for her. “I’m all warm now, and I don’t care.”
Sammy did not feel altogether as sure that they would escape from the difficulty so easily; but he did not openly express his belief. He was, like the little girls, glad to have found shelter. With provisions and a fire, he said, they could stay here like Crusoes.
“You know, Robinson Crusoe lived in a cave, and in a hut. And he was all alone till he got some goats and a Man Friday.”
“We might have brought Billy Bumps along,” said Dot thoughtfully.
“I guess I wouldn’t want to live with an old goat,” Tess observed, with scorn.
They had no means of measuring the passage of time, and of course it seemed that “hours and hours” must have passed before Sammy tried to look out through the opening the first time.
And this was no easy work. The snow had gathered so quickly and packed down so hard upon the sled that the boy could scarcely raise it. Finally, by backing under the sled and rising up with it on his shoulders, the sturdy little fellow broke through the drift.
“I got it!” he shouted back to Tess and Dot. “But, oh, Je-ru-sa-lem! ain’t it snowin’ though? Bet it never snowed so hard before. I guess we’ll have to stay here till they dig us out.”
“Oh, Sammy! All night?” gasped Dot.
“Well, I don’t know about that. But until this old snow stops, anyway.”
He, nor the little girls, scarcely appreciated the fact that the worst blizzard of the winter had broken over that territory, and that trails and paths were being utterly obliterated. The keenest scented dog, and the most experienced woodsman, could not have traced the three children to their present shelter.
Sammy came in and fixed the sled again to keep out the snow. He felt pretty serious – for him. Sammy Pinkney was not in the habit of looking for the worst to happen. Quite the contrary.
Yet he could not throw off anxiety as easily as Dot could. As long as she was not hungry, and was warm, the smallest Corner House girl felt quite cheerful.
They could see a little better in their cozy nest now, and being assured that there were no mice, thought of other wild creatures of the forest did not disturb Dot Kenway.
“Let’s play something,” said Dot. “Cum-ge-cum!”
“What do you come by?” asked Tess quickly. This was an old, old game of guessing that Aunt Sarah Maltby had taught the little folks.
“I come by the letter ‘S,’” declared Dot.
“Snow,” guessed Sammy promptly.
“No.”
“It’s got to be the ’nitial of something in this – this house,” Tess observed. “Shoes, Dottie?”
“No. ’Tisn’t shoes. And ’tis in the house – if you call this a house.”
“Shirt,” Sammy declared.
“Nopy!”
“Sled?” guessed Tess.
“No, it is not ‘sled,’” said the littlest girl.
“Stockin’s?” suggested Sammy. “I’ve got a hole in one o’ mine. Feels like my big toe was stranglin’ to death, so it does.”
“S-s-s – ”
“Oh, stop!” shrieked Dot suddenly. “What’s that at the door?”
The two little girls shrieked again and scrambled behind the trunk of the tree. Sammy was just as scared as a child could be, but he sat right where he was and watched the dim light grow at the hole over which he had pulled the sled.
Something was scratching there, dragging the sled away from over the hole in the snowdrift. Sammy did not know that even the hungriest animal in the forest was snugly housed during this storm. The creatures of the wild do not hunt when the weather is so boisterous.
It might have been a wolf, or a bear, or a lynx, or a tiger, as far as the small boy knew. Just the same, having the responsibility of Tess and Dot on his mind, he had to stay and face the unknown.
Suddenly a voice spoke from without. It said with much disgust:
“Oh, shut up your squalling. I’m not going to bite you.”
“Je-ru-sa-lem!” murmured Sammy. “What’s this?”
In a minute he was reassured, for the sled was torn away and a head and shoulders appeared down the opening through the drift.
“Hello!” exclaimed the voice again. “How did you get here? How many of you are there?”
“Two girls and a boy. And we slid here,” said Sammy, gulping down a big lump in his throat.
“Girls?” gasped the stranger, who seemed to be very little older than Sammy himself. “Girls out in this blizzard?”
“No. We’re all safe in here under the tree,” said Sammy, with some indignation. “I wouldn’t let ’em stay out in the storm.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the stranger. “And do you intend to stay here till it stops snowing?”
“Why not?” demanded Sammy.
“That won’t be until tomorrow – maybe next day,” was the cheerful response. “I guess you don’t know much about storms up here in the woods.”
“Nope. We come from Milton.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the other. “You’re some of that bunch from Red Deer Lodge, aren’t you?”
“Ye – yes, sir,” Tess interposed politely. “Do you suppose you could show us the way home?”
“Just now I couldn’t,” said the other, wriggling his way into the shelter. “This is pretty good in here. But you’d better come to my cave.”
“Oh! do you live in a cave?” asked Sammy.
“Isn’t it dark?” asked Tess.
“Are there fishes in it with blind eyes?” demanded Dot, who had heard something about the fish of the streams in the Mammoth Cave, and thought all caves were alike.
“Fish?” snorted the newcomer. “I guess not! Wish there were. We’d eat them. And we need meat.”
“Is – is your cave far?” asked Sammy, in some doubt.
“No. Just back of this tree. And we’d better get back there quick, or the door will be all snowed under. This is a big, big storm.”
“Who are you?” Tess asked. “If you don’t mind telling us. This is Sammy Pinkney; and I’m Tess Kenway; and this is my sister, Dot.”
“Huh!” said the stranger. “I – I’m Rowdy.”
“Rowdy?” repeated Tess, wonderingly.
“That’s what they call me,” said the other hastily. “Just Rowdy. And we’d better go to my cave.”
“But you don’t live out here in the woods all by yourself, do you?” asked Sammy, in much surprise.
“No. But – but my father’s gone a long way off.” The boy hesitated a moment, and then added: “Gone to Canada – trapping. Won’t be back for ever so long. So I live in the cave.”
“Oh, my!” murmured Tess.
“Je-ru-sa-lem!” exclaimed Sammy. “Ain’t you afraid to live here alone?”
“I’m not afraid,” said their new friend. “And there’s nobody to boss you all the time here. Come on. You follow me. Drag along the sled. We might need that after the snow’s stopped.”
He started to crawl out through the hole into the storm again, and the trio from Red Deer Lodge decided that there was nothing better to do than to follow him.
CHAPTER XXII – IN THE CAVE
The snow beat down upon them so when they were outside of the shelter that the little girls could scarcely get their breath. Dot clung to Tess’ hand and bleated a few complaining words. But the strange boy said sharply:
“Don’t be blubbering. We’ll be all right in a minute. I want to hunt for something around here. That’s what I come out of the cave for.”
“Am not blubbering!” muttered Dot, quite indignant. “But this old snow – ”
“Oh, I’ve got it!” shouted the strange boy, leaping ahead through the snow with great vigor. “Come on! Don’t lose sight of me.”
“You bet we won’t,” said Sammy, urging Tess and Dot on ahead of him and dragging the sled after.
“What is it?” asked Tess, curiously.
“A trap,” said the other.
“Oh!”
“What kind of a trap?” asked the eager Sammy.
“Rabbit trap. Box trap. Rafe and I brought it down here with us and set it this morning. I put a handful of corn in it and I saw rabbit tracks all about just before it began to snow so hard. Here it is.”
The speaker had knelt down in the snow and was uncovering some long, narrow object with his hands.
“It’s sprung, anyway. You see, the door’s dropped,” he said. “The rabbit pokes right in after the corn, and when he begins to eat the bait clear at the end of the box, he trips the trigger and the door falls. Yes! He’s here!”
“Oh, Je-ru-sa-lem! A real rabbit?” gasped Sammy Pinkney.
“A poor little bunny?” murmured Tess, her tender heart at once disturbed at the thought of the trapped animal.
“Huh! If we are snowed up in that cave for a week or so,” said the boy called Rowdy, “you’ll be mighty glad I caught this rabbit.”
He had lifted the door and thrust in his left hand to seize the animal.
“Oh! Oh!” squealed Dot. “Won’t it bite you?”
“It doesn’t bite with its hind legs,” said Rowdy with scorn. “Ah! I got him.”
He drew forth the rabbit, kicking and squirming. The little mouse-like cry the poor beast made sounded very pitiful to Tess. She murmured:
“Oh, don’t hurt him!”
“Je-ru-sa-lem!” exclaimed Sammy to Rowdy. “Ain’t girls the worst ever?”
“Huh!” said the strange boy, suddenly glaring at Sammy Pinkney, “what do you know about girls?”
He was a dark boy, with ragged black hair that had evidently been sheared off roughly by an amateur barber. He was dressed warmly and in good clothes. He wore leggings that came up to his hips. He was bigger, and must have been older than Sammy.
He stood up now, with the kicking rabbit held by the hind legs. The trapped animal was fat and was of good size.
“Oh! Oh!” cried Dot. “He’ll get away from you.”
“Like fun he will.”
“How are you going to kill him?” Sammy, the practical, asked.
“Break its neck,” was the prompt reply.
“Oh! How awful!” gasped Tess. “Won’t it hurt him?”
“It won’t know anything about it,” said Rowdy.
He was already holding the rabbit away from him almost at arm’s length and poised his right hand, edge out, for the blow that was to finish the creature. Sharp and quick was the blow, the outer edge of the boy’s hand striking across the back of the rabbit’s neck just at the base of the brain. The vertebra was snapped in this way and the creature instantly killed – a merciful and sudden death. The rabbit kicked but once, and then was still.
“Oh! Oh!” murmured Tess.
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Rowdy. “Ike M’Graw showed me how to do that.”
“Oh!” cried Dot. “We know Mr. Ike M’Graw – so we do.”
“How did you come to know him?” demanded Rowdy, quickly and suspiciously, it seemed. “He isn’t at home now.”
“Yes, he is,” said Sammy. “He was up at Red Deer Lodge last night and he was there again this morning.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Rowdy, standing and holding the rabbit as though the information gave him considerable mental disturbance. “I – I thought he’d gone away for good.”
Then he turned suddenly and plunged into the drifting snow. “Come on!” he exclaimed again. “This snow is drifting awfully.”
Sammy drove the little girls ahead of him again. “Aw, go on!” he muttered. “He’s all right. He’s got some kind of a hide-out.”
“I don’t believe I like that Rowdy,” said Tess softly. “He – he’s real cruel. All boys are, I s’pose.”
“They have to be,” returned Sammy.
“Why?” demanded Tess, in wonder.
“’Cause girls are such softies,” declared the impolite Sammy.
They plunged ahead, wading far above their waists now. Behind the trees the hillside rose abruptly. It towered so above their heads in the snow that the children were almost scared. Suppose that hill of snow should tumble right down on top of them!
“Goodness!” exclaimed Tess, with some exasperation. “Where is your old cave?”
“Come on,” said Rowdy, patiently. “It’s here somewhere. But the old snow – Ye-e – yi, yi!” he suddenly yelled.
Faintly there came an answering voice – half smothered, wholly eerie sounding.
“Oh! Who’s that?” demanded Sammy.
“Him,” said Rowdy shortly.
“Then don’t you live alone?” Tess demanded.
“I have my brother with me,” said Rowdy, plunging on to the right.
The snow beat into their faces and eyes, almost blinding them and wholly stopping their chatter. Above their heads the huge trees rocked, limbs writhing as though they were alive and in pain. And from these writhing limbs the snow was shaken down in avalanches.
One great blob of snow fell square on Sammy, trudging on behind the procession, and he went down with a howl like a wolf, buried to his ears.
“Oh, Sammy! Sammy!” shrieked Tess, above the wind. “Are you hurt?”
“I – I’m smothered!” groaned the boy, struggling to get out of the heap of snow. “Hey, you Rowdy! Get us out of this, or we’ll be buried and lost.”
“Come on!” sang out the bigger boy from up ahead. “O-ee! Rafe!” he shouted.
A figure appeared before them – the figure of a boy not much bigger than Rowdy.
“What have you there?” a hoarse voice demanded.
“A rabbit.”
“I mean who are those behind you?” and the hoarse voice was very tart now.
“A couple of girls and a boy,” said Rowdy. “I picked ’em up back there by the trap.”
“Well! But we don’t keep a hotel,” said the second boy.
“Hush!” commanded Rowdy. “Where are your manners? And they come from the Lodge,” he added.
“How are we going to feed so many people?” was the rather selfish demand of the second boy from the cave.
“Mercy! you’re a regular pig, Rafe,” exclaimed Rowdy. “Go on. Take this rabbit. I’ll help the little girl. She’s almost done for.”
Dot Kenway really was breathless and almost exhausted. She was glad to be taken in the strong arms of Rowdy. He staggered along behind the one called Rafe, and so came to an opening behind a bowlder which seemed to have been rolled by nature against the hillside.
The hole was sheltered from the direct effect of the wind that was drifting the snow in a huge mound against the bowlder. Rafe, with the rabbit, dived first into the hole. Rowdy followed, with Dot in his arms.
“Oh! Oh!” cried the littlest girl with delight. “Here’s a fire.”
“Isn’t that splendid?” demanded Tess, who came next and saw the blaze at the back of the cave, between two stones. “Why! what a nice cave you’ve got here.”
The fire lit up the cave, for it was only about a dozen feet square. Only, it was not really square, being of a circular shape at the back. The smoke from the fire rose straight up and disappeared through a hole in the low roof through which there must have been considerable draught.
Of course, there was a strong smell of wood smoke in the cave; but not enough smoke to make one’s eyes smart. There were some old blankets and rugs on the floor for carpet. Against one side wall was a great heap of balsam boughs, over which were flung robes.
When Sammy came staggering in with the sled he fairly shouted his approval of the cave.
“Je-ru-sa-lem! what a jim-dandy place. Say! I bet Neale O’Neil would like to see this.”
“Well, you needn’t be bringing anybody here and showing it. This is our own particular hideout – Rowdy’s and mine. So now,” observed Rafe, who seemed to be less friendly than his brother.
“Oh, hush,” pleaded the latter. “Do be hospitable, Rafe. Don’t you know these kids are our guests?”
“‘Guests!’” snorted the other.
“Yes, they are.”
“Oh, please don’t quarrel about us,” urged Tess Kenway gently. “We’ll go right away as soon as it stops snowing, and we’ll never tell anybody about this cave if you don’t want us to.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Rowdy. “He’s got a cold and a grouch. Come on, Rafe; help me pluck this rabbit.”
“Oh, I’ll do that!” cried the red-faced Sammy. “Let me!”
While the little girls were glad to sit before the fire on the blankets, he wished to make himself useful. Besides, to help skin a real rabbit was a height of delight to which Sammy Pinkney had never before risen.
“All right,” said Rowdy. “You get the potatoes and onions ready, Rafe. We have salt and pepper and we can have a nice rabbit stew.”
“Just fry it,” recommended the other cave dweller. “That’s less trouble.”
“You do as I say!” exclaimed Rowdy, sternly. “There are five of us instead of two to eat, and we’ve got to make this rabbit go a long way.”
“Well, who brought them in? I didn’t,” said Rafe, angrily. “You knew we didn’t have any too much to eat.”
“You are a nice one!” began Rowdy, when Tess broke in with:
“I’m awful sorry we came if we are going to make trouble. We can go back under that tree – can’t we, Sammy?”
“I’m not going back there,” Dot said stubbornly. “There’s no fire there. If this other boy doesn’t like us because we are girls, can’t he go out and live under the tree himself?”
This idea seemed to amuse Rowdy a good deal. He laughed aloud – and the laugh did not sound just like a boy’s laugh, either. Tess stared at him wonderingly.
“If Rafe’s going to be so mean,” he said, “he ought to be put out. Go ahead and peel the potatoes and onions, Rafe.”
“Sha’n’t. That’s girl’s work,” growled Rafe.
“Oh! If you’ve got a knife I’ll peel them,” said Tess. “I don’t mind.”
“All right,” Rowdy said. “Give her the knife, Rafe. Put over the pot with some snow in it. The little girl can feed that till there is a lot of water ready. We’ll want some for tea.”
“Don’t want tea,” growled Rafe. “I want coffee.”
“Oh, stop that, Rafe, or I’ll slap you good!” promised Rowdy, his vexation finally boiling over. “I never saw such a boy. Come on here, Sammy. Hold this rabbit by the hind legs and I’ll skin it in a jiffy.”
