A QUARREL
"Here comes Sladder, Musgrove and the mighty Bowser," laughed Bob, when
supper was finished next evening.
"There's a light in the cabin, so we might as well get ready," added
Sam Randall, rising to his feet.
The Stony Creek hunters soon drew up alongside the blazing fire.
"Evenin'! You fellers goin' over now? Piker's gang is there," said
Musgrove. "A bully night, too, fur skatin'," he added.
The full moon gleamed brightly from a cloudless sky, sending the
shadows of the dark trees in a delicate tracery over the foreground.
The huts were edged with light, while beyond stretched a pale, ghostly
expanse of snow, broken here and there by dark patches of trees and
underbrush. Overhead, a few bright stars sparkled upon the field of
blue.
"Big crowd of us, isn't there?" said Tom Clifton, with a glance over
his shoulder, as all started for the lake.
"Sure," replied Sladder; "with Bowser, it makes ten. Guess there won't
be much room in that there cabin when all of us gits inside."
"Race, Wackett?" grinned Musgrove, as the crisp whirr of the steel rang
out.
"Do you think I want to break my neck? A fellow might run across
an air hole or thin spot somewhere. Daytime for me. And say,
Mushroom"--Hackett's voice betrayed a trace of impatience--"you won't
talk so much about racing after the next time."
"Huh--what's the reason I won't?"
"You'll find out. I'll have the Stony Creek championship dangling from
my belt before long, eh, Nat?" and Hackett playfully poked his chum in
the ribs.
The starlike point of light in the cabin grew larger and brighter, and
finally the log structure could be faintly seen against the side of the
hill.
"Hello--hi, hi!" yelled Hackett, and the chorus of shouts which
followed soon brought a response.
The door was opened, sending a stream of light out upon the snow. Dark
forms crowded the entrance, and Piper's voice was heard, inviting them
to come in.
The snow-drifts along the shore and around the cabin were particularly
heavy, but the boys quickly floundered through them.
"I'm glad to see you," said Piper, heartily, as the group approached.
"Been wondering how you fared in the storm. Hello--you here?"
His eye had rested on the forms of Tim Sladder and Billy Musgrove, who
stood in the full glare of light.
At this remark, the latter's face assumed its most impudent expression.
He folded his arms and surveyed the speaker an instant before replying,
"Certainly--an' why not?"
"Oh, well--didn't expect you--that's all."
Piper's voice grew sarcastic, his manner became frigid, while Robson,
standing just inside, gave a short laugh. "Anyway, we don't want that
Bowser in here," went on Piper. "A hundred pounds of dog would take up
too much room."
"An' I suppose me an' me pal, Tim, ain't good 'nough ter come in,
neither--eh?" growled Musgrove, compressing his lips.
"No use getting riled. Move lively, fellows--don't want to let in too
much cold air."
For an instant the Stony Creek boys held back. Then Sladder whispered
in his chum's ear, and the two slowly walked inside. Bowser, left out
in the cold, set up a mournful howl and began scratching at the door.
"Sit on anything you can find, fellows," said Piper, with a pleasant
smile. "It seems to me," he added, "that we ought to build an addition
to this shack. What's the matter with that brute?"
"Don't you think a dog feels the cold jest like humans, Swiper?"
interposed Musgrove.
"Seems to me it's more of a great big calf than a canine," laughed
Piper. "Pretty heavy storm we had, eh? It was a job clearing away some
of the snow-drifts. Seems to me I never worked so hard in my life. How
did you fellows make out?"
"Well, Piper," replied Nat Wingate, sitting in an indolent fashion near
the stove, "there was excitement on our side of the lake, and plenty of
it, too."
"Bob Somers and Hackett had an awful time," ventured Tom Clifton.
"Almost got chewed up by wolves."
"By wolves?" echoed Heydon, in surprise.
"Yes! We certainly had the fight of our lives--and no mistake,"
answered Hackett. "You see, Piper, it was this way--"
A particularly loud whine from the disconsolate Bowser interrupted him.
"We'll have to let the poor brute in," remarked Rex Heydon. "If we
don't, the meeting will be disturbed too much."
"Seems to me," put in Piper, reflectively, "that I wouldn't own a dog
like that."
"Don't say nothin' agin Bowser," protested Tim Sladder, warmly. He
opened the door to admit the animal, which bounded in with a great
demonstration of joy.
"Now spin your yarn," said Piper.
Nat Wingate, quite anxious to see if the trio displayed any evidence of
guilt, quickly spoke up. "Yardsley had all his furs and skins stolen,"
he exclaimed, abruptly, and pausing to note the effect of his words, he
glanced sharply at the three young men.
They seemed profoundly astonished.
"Had his furs stolen?" gasped Piper. "How--when?"
Nat proceeded to tell them, and when he had finished Hackett began his
tale.
"Well, you fellows certainly had a strenuous day, all right," commented
Robson with a long breath as he concluded. "Let's see--say, it happened
just about the time I sent up the smoke signals, eh?"
Piper contracted his brow on hearing this, and stared reflectively at
the floor. "It seems to me," he began.
"Can't you say nothin' else than 'it seems ter me'?" grinned Musgrove,
impudently. "That's the ninth time yer said it. I counted 'em."
"Seems to me that you--"
"Makes ten!" Billy shifted his position and chuckled audibly, while
Piper glared angrily for a moment, then resumed, "This is a pretty
serious business, boys. Have you seen any one around lately?"
"No!"
"And doesn't Yardsley have any suspicions?"
An uncomfortable expression flitted across Nat Wingate's face, and
slight as it was, Piper's quick eye detected it.
"Oh, ho!" put in the poet laureate, "it's all a mystery. Yardsley said
yesterday that he never expected to find out who took them."
A sort of chuckle came from Billy Musgrove, which seemed to irritate
Piper considerably. Heydon, too, looked over with a surprised air,
remarking, "I'm sure I can't see what there is to amuse any one in an
affair like this."
"I ain't said I was amused at the rob'ry," returned Musgrove with
another chuckle.
"But at something--that's quite apparent," said Piper. For a moment
he remained thoughtful, then, as an idea suddenly entered his mind,
a slight flush crossed his face. "What is this, Wingate?" he asked,
rather sharply. "What did old Yardsley say? Come, out with it. No need
of any mystery."
"Brandon just told you," answered Nat, evasively.
"Oh, yes--but I'll be bound that wasn't all. Look at Musgrove--he can
scarcely keep his face straight."
Silence followed this remark. It was broken by Rex Heydon, who
observed, "I guess we can see through a wall when there's a hole in it.
What are you afraid of?"
"Afraid?" Nat Wingate mechanically repeated the word, then came to a
pause, looking considerably nonplussed.
Piper turned toward the smallest member of the Rambler Club and held up
his finger. "Tom Clifton," he said, with a trace of anger in his voice,
"I want to know exactly what that old trapper had to say!"
But Billy Musgrove interrupted. "What are you gittin' excited 'bout,
Sniper?" he asked, the grin leaving his face. "Why do you want ter know
what Pardsley says?"
"I'm not talking to you," snapped Piper.
"Come now--don't be scared, Tommy," he went on, encouragingly; "out
with it. Wingate knows, but won't tell. Kind of lost his nerve,
perhaps."
"You must think I lose my nerve pretty easily," laughed Nat.
"Well, it seems to me--that will do, Musgrove, if my English doesn't
happen to please your scholarly mind, I can't help it--that you ought
to be frank, Wingate. Your nature may be a little timid--some people
are that way--and--"
"Can't say I like that," interrupted Nat, his eyes beginning to flash.
"A little timid, eh? I guess you don't know me very well yet, Piper."
"Well, then, we'll test that a bit--of course no offense intended. Now
it seems to me--"
A groan came from Musgrove. Piper cast an angry look in his direction,
and continued, "Now--just show me how much nerve you have. I can tell
that old Yardsley said something about us--don't deny it. Really
doesn't make any difference, but--"
Nat Wingate half arose. He felt that all eyes were upon him and to
be even mildly accused of lack of courage made the hot blood mount
to his face. "Do you think I'd lose my nerve on your account?" he
exclaimed,--"not much!"
"Come--come, fellows!" expostulated Dave Brandon, quietly; "there is no
need of any trouble."
"The idea of him talkin' like that, when Springate's been insulted,"
chuckled Musgrove, in a hoarse whisper. "This is as good as a circus.
But Sniper can't scare Springate none no, sir--not he."
"Piper," spoke up Robson, at this juncture, "you made a mistake in
letting Muzz come in, after his impudence the other day."
"My imperdence?" Billy rose excitedly. "My imperdence?" he repeated,
furiously. "If that don't beat all! I like that--of all the sassy
fellers I ever run acrost, Sniper, you're the wust." Musgrove leaned
forward--the light revealed a face purple with rage. "But yer can't
scare me, or me pal, Tim--no, sir!"
"And I won't stand fur no sass, neither," asserted Sladder, taking a
stand by the side of his chum. "We ain't lookin' fur trouble, but when
it comes, we kin handle an awful lot."
Piper glared for a moment at the two boys, then arose. "You will have
precious little opportunity for handling any around here," he observed,
"or for making any, either."
"'Seems ter me,'" retorted Musgrove, also arising, "that it was you
what's been makin' a fuss. I never seen sich a crowd."
Charlie Piper was thoroughly incensed. "Get out of this cabin, you
grinning jackanapes," he cried, wrathfully. Then, walking to the door,
he threw it open. "Take yourselves and that clumsy old brute out of
here before my temper gets the best of me."
"Oh, we ain't pertic'lar anxious ter stay," sneered Musgrove, as he
spitefully kicked over the box on which he had been sitting and edged
away. "You're a nice one--a pertic'lar nice one--oh, yes! An' Springate
ain't the feller I think he is, if he lets hisself be insulted.
Imperdence, eh? Well, you know how ter hand it out, all right."
"An' I ain't standing fur no more of it, neither," added Tim Sladder.
"Come on, Bowser!" And the Stony Creek boys stalked slowly and
defiantly toward the door.
"Nice, pleasant evening," remarked Nat, dryly.
"Mean anything by that?" queried Piper.
"Come now, Charlie," interposed Heydon. "Those Stony Creek fellows have
kind of spoiled things. Let it drop."
"If some one had had the courage to speak out in a manly fashion, this
trouble could all have been avoided," returned the other. "Don't blame
the whole thing on them."
"Boys!" exclaimed Heydon, with a deprecatory gesture. "No use taking
that seriously. Call the thing ended. Won't you have a cup of coffee?"
"I think not," answered Nat, coldly, as he arose from his seat. "Guess
I'll be going, too," he continued. "Hang it all--no matter what
Yardsley said, it's no affair of ours."
"Might be better to change the subject now," said Fulmer Robson, with a
forced laugh, "and begin--"
"I'll say good-night, fellows," continued Nat, as he took a step toward
the door. "Coming along, Hackett?"
"Well, if you are in such a humor as that," snapped Piper, "I've
nothing further to say. No doubt that fellow Yardsley thinks we stole
his furs--I could read it in your face."
"We're not responsible for another person's opinion," observed Hackett,
a little disappointed that the row had not assumed larger proportions.
"Still I notice that no one has the sand to let me know what he said."
Piper spoke in a most sarcastic tone, and glanced from Hackett to
Wingate.
Nat's brown eyes flashed. "You'll admit yourself, Piper," he blurted
out, "that it looks mighty singular. Just at the time we are sent for,
the furs happen to disappear. Anybody would be a fool not to--"
"That will do," interrupted Piper, harshly. "The whole crowd of you
might as well get out. This isn't the end of the affair by a long shot!"
Hackett opened the door. "And you'll find out that we have as much sand
as anybody," he growled. "Don't you forget it."
"It needs to be proven," retorted Piper, angrily. "If you are going,
kindly shut the door. We don't care to be frozen out."
"If you want proofs," snapped Hackett, "you'll get them fast enough.
This crowd doesn't take a back seat for anybody."
"Very good--but just remember that we're in no mood to be trifled
with," was Piper's parting fling.
Almost before they realized it, the boys found themselves standing
outside the cabin, wondering at the strange termination of their visit.
Meanwhile Tim Sladder and Billy Musgrove had not left the vicinity.
They considered themselves grievously insulted, and Bowser, too, had
been referred to in the most slurring manner. As the two conversed in
low tones, their anger grew, rather than lessened.
In the full glare of moonlight, the Stony Creek boys stood, dark and
mysterious against a background of silvery white snow, now and then
turning toward the cabin to make a threatening gesture. Finally,
instead of re-crossing the lake, and moving as if some momentous scheme
was under way, they began to climb the hill back of the cabin. It was
steep and partially bare of trees.
On reaching the top, Billy Musgrove chuckled--it was a particularly
mirthful chuckle, and seemed to indicate that his wrathful feelings had
been swallowed up in those of a more pleasant nature. Below, the cabin
appeared as a dark patch, while a glimmer of pale yellow light spread
over the snow from the window on the other side.
"We jest hit the right scheme, Tim," exclaimed Musgrove, cautiously.
"'Bout here is the spot. We'll make a whopper, an' it oughter swoop
down like a streak o' lightnin'. That 'seems ter me' feller will find
out it ain't good ter insult us none."
Tim Sladder grinned. "I can hardly wait," he said. "Here you,
Bowser--keep quiet. Guess it will surprise 'em some. Let's begin ter
scoop it up. Plenty of big drifts jest in the right place."
"My, but Springate was mad with Sniper," chuckled Billy. "Hope they
ain't gone when this here punk'n begins a-rollin'."
With an energy that would have done credit to a more worthy cause, the
Stony Creek boys began to get together a pile of snow. A big mass was
pounded and rolled together until it became firm and solid.
They watched the white ball growing into formidable dimensions with
many stifled bursts of laughter, while old Bowser, taking a languid
interest in the proceedings, gazed curiously as it was rolled from
place to place gathering up more snow.
"Hello--believe them chaps is a-comin' out now," observed Sladder.
"Ain't that Piper a-talkin' loud?"
"Guess you're right, Tim," chuckled Musgrove, listening intently.
"Sounds like a scrap, don't it?"
"Wouldn't worry me none, if it was. But don't let 'em see you, Billy."
"This here huckleberry is 'most done an' ready ter roll. Git back a
bit, Tim. I can see 'em hangin' around the door. Say--there's Scummers
a-callin' us."
"Let 'im call. We ain't got no time ter gab. Important business on
hand." Tim Sladder chuckled and peered cautiously over the edge of the
declivity. An exclamation of impatience escaped him, as he saw several
dusky figures wending their way toward the base of the hill. "By jingo,
they must have heard us," he exclaimed. "Believe they're a-comin' up,
too."
Consternation seemed to seize Musgrove. "An' we jest ready ter start
the ball a-rollin'," he growled. "Quick, Tim--if they once gits up,
they'll stop us, maybe. Shove the punk'n over, an' scoot."
The boys jumped toward the huge snowball. With an effort that taxed all
their strength, they managed to roll it toward a mass of underbrush,
then the two disappeared amidst the trees.
The sound of voices from below grew louder, and Musgrove, with the
greatest caution, presently moved forward to a place where he could see
over the edge of the hill.
"What are they a-doin'?" questioned Tim, eagerly.
"Tryin' ter mind our business, fur sure--the hull crowd is a-comin' up."
"Right this way?" asked Sladder, in alarm.
"No! Kinder circlin' around. Yer can yell yer head off, Scummers, but
nobody ain't goin' ter answer."
"Can't we roll it over now?" put in Sladder, eagerly.
"Best wait." Billy drew back like a shot. "Thought sure they seed me
that time," he whispered. "Lay low--get down, you Bowser."
Screening themselves behind a mass of underbrush, the boys kept their
eyes on the others, who, climbing the hill some distance off, were
occasionally lost to view behind the trees.
Hoping that they would soon be discouraged and give up the search,
Sladder and Musgrove remained silent, but as the minutes flew by they
saw the Kingswood boys pushing steadily up the hill.
"Ain't this the meanest luck?" growled Sladder, in scarcely audible
tones. "But they ain't a-goin' ter stop us--no, sir--they ain't. Wow!
They's a-comin' this way. Stir yourself, Billy!"
"They must have heerd us, or they wouldn't have been nosin' around fur
fifteen minutes," returned Musgrove, disgustedly.
Throwing aside all caution, the latter straightened up, and with
Sladder at his heels, boldly walked toward the huge snowball.
"Crickets, Billy, this is 'most as heavy as lead," puffed the latter,
as he attempted to roll it.
"It's a whopper, all right--quick--them fellers is a-gittin' close't."
Putting their shoulders to the mass, they shoved it over to the brink
of the hill.
Their presence had now been discovered, for Bowser, not understanding
the necessity for silence, uttered a long, doleful bark.
"Get it headed straight, Tim," exclaimed Musgrove, breathing hard.
"Jest a leetle this way. Aim fur them twigs in front, an' it'll land
all right."
"Them fellers can't stop us now," said Sladder, with a grin of delight.
"Everything ready, eh?--one--two--three!"
From the point where the two stood, there was a smooth, steep
declivity, then a nearly level stretch leading to the cabin.
Chuckling loudly, the two boys gave the enormous ball a mighty shove.
"Mind your eye when Swiper an' Jobson come out. Won't they be wild? Oh,
my, it's a-tearin' along, eh? Somethin' goin' ter bust, sure."
Eagerly they kept their eyes on the ball, which gathered speed every
instant and was headed directly for the cabin.
With an irresistible rush it reached the bottom of the hill, dashed
across the intervening stretch like a flash and brought up with a
frightful bang against the side of the cabin. An ominous crashing of
timbers followed, and gleams of light were seen issuing from the spot
where it had struck. Then silence reigned.
It was but for an instant, however. With loud shouts of vengeance,
three young men, wildly excited, issued from the door and made a
bee-line for seven boys who had come to a stop at the summit of the
hill.
Sladder, Musgrove and Bowser melted silently away into the sombre
depths of the woods.