JADBURY WILSON
In amazement, the Hardy boys and their chums stared at the cottage that
had so strangely appeared in the snow.
"How did that get here?" shouted Chet Morton.
Frank waved his hand toward the top of the cliff.
"There was a little cottage up there," he told them. "It must have been
blown off by the wind."
This, indeed, had been the case. Sheltered by the cliff, the boys had
no adequate realization of the immense force of the hurricane. The
little cottage at the top of the cliff had received the full brunt of
the wind and had finally succumbed to the gale and to the force of a
sudden avalanche of snow from farther up on the hillside. It had no
foundation, and it had been swept away bodily.
The boys fought their way through the deep snow and inspected
the little house. It had come through the terrific ordeal with
surprisingly small damage. One side had crumpled under the force of the
impact and the building was canted over at a precarious angle. But the
roof and the other three sides were unbroken, thanks to the soft snow
which had lessened the shock of the fall.
"There must be some one inside," Joe said. "Some one was shouting for
help."
Frank found the door of the cottage and tried to open it, but it was
jammed, as the house was not standing upright. Then he discovered a
window, the glass of which was shattered, and with assistance from the
others he made his way inside.
The interior of the place was wrecked. In the dim light Frank could see
the broken boards and shattered timbers, the broken glass, the upturned
stove, the smashed furniture--but there was no sign of any human being.
"Doesn't seem to be any one here," he called out to the others.
Just then he heard a sigh. It came from beneath an upturned cot at one
side of the room. He investigated and saw a hand emerging from beneath
the cot. In a few minutes he had raised the small bed and found an old
man lying face downward on the floor.
"Help me out!" muttered the old man feebly.
Frank called to the others, and one by one they came scrambling through
the window. Together, they raised the old man to his feet and set
him down on the cot, which they turned to an upright position again.
Painfully, the old fellow rubbed his aching joints.
"No bones broken," he said, at last. "I'm lucky I wasn't killed."
"You might have been crushed to death," Frank interposed.
"It's lucky you boys were near," he said. "I'd have frozen to death if
I'd been left pinned under that cot. I mightn't have been found for
days. But it takes a lot to kill Jadbury Wilson. I guess my time ain't
come yet."
The old man looked around and smiled feebly at the lads. He was small
but sturdy of frame, with kindly blue eyes and a gray beard.
"I've often thought it was dangerous to live in a place at the top of
a cliff like that," he said. "There've been times when the wind was so
strong I was afraid it would pick up my house and lift it clean out
into the lake. But, somehow, it always stood up until to-day. It all
came so suddenly I hardly knew what was happenin'. Mighty good thing
the house landed right side up. How did you lads come to be near by?"
"We were on a skating trip and we got caught in the storm," Frank told
him. "We took refuge at the foot of the cliff and we were standing
there when we heard the crash. Then we heard some one call."
"That was me. I didn't think there was any use of hollerin', but I
hollered just the same, although I didn't think there was a human soul
within three miles."
Jadbury Wilson got up off the cot, but subsided back with a groan of
pain.
"I got banged and bumped around too much," he said. "Thought I'd get
busy and try to straighten things up around here."
"We'll do that," said Jerry Gilroy promptly.
"Everythin's pretty well smashed up," observed the old man. "But you
could mebbe fix up the stove so it would work again. Looks as if we're
all here to stay until the storm blows over."
The boys made Jadbury Wilson comfortable on his cot and then they set
to work to restore some semblance of order to the interior of the
little cabin. They managed to patch up openings in the walls through
which the snow was drifting, and although one side of the cottage had
collapsed completely there was still sufficient room in which to move
about. They nailed a tarpaulin over the broken window, righted the
table and chairs and picked up the tin dishes that were scattered about
on the floor. The stove gave them most trouble, but they were able
to set the stovepipe up again and light a fire so that before long a
comfortable warmth began to pervade the interior of their shelter.
Jadbury Wilson, lying on the cot, approved of their efforts.
"We're in out of the storm, anyway," he said. "That's the main thing.
And from the sound of that wind, it ain't as yet dyin' down any."
Frank Hardy drew aside the tarpaulin and looked out. It was dark now,
and with nightfall the blizzard seemed to have increased in volume.
The wind beat against the sides of the cabin, the snow swished madly
against the roof.
"We're marooned here for the night," he told his chums.
"It could be worse," remarked Joe. "We're lucky to be under cover."
"I'll say we are," declared Chet. "Might as well make the best of it."
"How about eating?" demanded Jerry.
"You'll find tea and bread and bacon in the cupboard," said Jadbury
Wilson. "I'm feelin' sort of hungry myself."
The boys rummaged about in the cupboard, which was undamaged, and found
provisions. The water had been spilled, but Frank melted some snow on
the stove and after a while had the kettle boiling. The fragrant smell
of frying bacon pervaded the cabin and in due time supper was served,
all doing full justice to the meal. Afterward, they washed the dishes
and set about making themselves comfortable for the night.
Jadbury Wilson possessed but the one narrow cot, so the boys saw they
would be obliged to sleep on the floor of the cabin. However, the old
man had plenty of blankets, and it was decided to have each lad stand
watch for two hours in order to keep the fire going. In spite of the
fact that the bitter wind swept through chinks and crannies in the
cabin walls, the place was comfortably warm, the fire radiating a good
heat in the confined space.
Jadbury Wilson was disconsolate.
"Troubles never seem to come one at a time," he groaned, lying on the
cot. "This is the finishin' touch."
"Have you been having bad luck, Mr. Wilson?" asked Frank,
sympathetically.
"I've had nothin' but bad luck for more'n a year past now. This is the
worst blow yet. I'll never be able to put this house back on the cliff
again."
"Oh, perhaps it isn't as bad as that," said Joe cheerfully. "You might
have been badly hurt. There's that to be thankful for."
"I suppose you're right, lad. I suppose you're right. I ought to be
glad I'm still alive. But when you're gettin' old and poor and you
ain't able to work like you've been used to and everythin' seems to be
goin' against you, it ain't so easy to keep cheerful."
The old man seemed so down-hearted that the boys did their best to
console him, but this final disaster to his humble cottage had proved a
hard blow. He lacked the resiliency and optimism of youth.
"There was a time when I should have been worth lots of money," he told
the boys. "And if I had my rights I ought to be worth lots of money
to-day. But here I am, with not many years ahead of me, livin' away out
here alone in a little two-by-twice cabin, and now the wind has to come
along and blow it into the lake. It don't seem fair, somehow."
"What do you do for a living, Mr. Wilson?" asked Chet Morton.
"I've been doin' a bit of trappin' and huntin' lately," the old man
replied. "Most of my life I've been a miner. I've traveled all over the
country."
The boys were at once interested.
"A miner, were you?"
"Yep. I've been in Montana and Nevada in the early days."
At mention of Montana the Hardy boys glanced at one another. Jadbury
Wilson did not seem to notice.
"I've been in the Klondike in the rush of ninety-eight and I've been
up in Cobalt and the Porcupine, too. Made a little money here and
there, but somehow somethin' always happened to keep me out of the big
winnin's. If I had my rights I ought to be worth plenty. But it's too
late now," he sighed. "It's too late for me to start out on the trails
again. I ain't young enough now."
The boys were sorry for the old man, but after a while he was quiet and
soon his heavy breathing indicated that he had fallen asleep.
"I hope Aunt Gertrude and mother aren't worrying too much," said Frank,
as he prepared to undertake first watch.
"It can't be helped," said Joe, wrapping his blanket around him. "We'll
be able to get back to-morrow."
"We might take the old man with us," Chet suggested sleepily. "He is
pretty well bruised and battered, and he won't be able to live here
until the cabin is fixed up again."
"That's a good idea." Frank put another stick of wood in the stove.
"You have next watch, Chet. May as well get all the sleep you can."
In a few minutes there was scarcely a sound in the cottage save the
crackling of the fire. The timbers of the building creaked and groaned
as the night wind hurled itself against the fragile shelter. Snow
slashed against the roof. Frank Hardy shivered. He was glad they had
obtained even this refuge from the blizzard.