STORM-BOUND
Well, it rained, just as the weather sharp had so wisely predicted.
Steve chanced to be the first to hear the drops begin to patter down on
the canvas covering that sheltered them from all inclemencies of the
weather. He gave a snort as he sat bolt upright and exclaimed:
"There, didn't I tell you so, fellows; listen to her come down, will
you?"
"What's all this row about?" grumbled the sleepy Toby, hardly stirring.
"Why, it's raining, don't you hear?" snorted Steve, as though that might
be a wonderful fact.
"Let her rain pitchforks for all I care," grunted Toby. "Lie down and go
to sleep again, can't you, Steve? What do we care, when this tent is
guaranteed waterproof? Besides, haven't we taken all precautions? Only
old Moses will get wet, and it isn't going to hurt him any. So please go
to sleep again, and leave me alone. I was having the most wonderful
dream, and beating the whole crowd at skating for a wonderful prize of a
pair of silver-plated skates, when you had to go and spoil the whole
show. Now I'll never get those skates, that's sure."
All through the balance of that night the rain continued to come
steadily down. At least it was no great storm, with accompanying wind
and the crashing of thunder. When morning came it was a dismal outlook
that they saw, peeping from the tent. The rain was still falling, and a
leaden gray sky overhead gave promise of a hopelessly long and wet day.
Steve had fetched along a rubber coat and boots, so that one of them
could go and come on errands, without getting soaked. Moses must be fed,
to begin with, and there would be numerous trips to make between tent
and supply wagon.
The fire was started in the little camp stove used by the photographer
when he took his annual pilgrimage through the country, in search of
lovely views to add to a collection he was making that would be an art
treasure when he had completed it.
"Say, that works mighty fine, let me tell you!" declared Toby, when the
grateful heat from the stove began to render the interior of the big
tent very comfortable. "We'll have no trouble keeping as snug as three
bugs in a rug, with that sheet-iron contraption to help out."
"And," added Steve, "the oven is getting hot already. I really believe I
can do that baking today, boys; so make up your minds to eat some of the
jolliest biscuits you ever put between your teeth. I made sure to carry
all the ingredients along, barring none."
"I notice that an arrangement comes with the stove so that you can burn
kerosene if wood isn't handy," remarked Jack; "which makes it all the
more valuable as a camp auxiliary. Lots of times wood is out of the
question, but you can get plenty of oil."
At that Steve began to chuckle.
"What strikes you as being so funny, Steve?" demanded Toby, who was
amusing himself by starting breakfast on the little stove, as though not
meaning to let Steve do _all_ the cooking while on their camping
trip.
"Oh! I was only thinking of that old saying about carrying coals to
Newcastle, you know--which place is the head coal centre over in
England. It would seem pretty much that way for fellows to lug a big can
of kerosene away up here, when the ground is actually reeking with the
stuff in an unrefined state. Perhaps it'd be possible to find a little
pond of the same, and dip up all you'd want to use."
"One thing I'm hoping won't happen, at any rate while we're up here,"
Toby now went on to say, reflectively; "and that is to have the woods
get afire. Whee! if that ever did happen, goodbye to Miss Priscilla's
gold mine, in the way of an oil gusher bonanza; for the whole country
might get ablaze."
"Not much danger of that, I guess," Jack assured him. "The traces of oil
we've seen must be only seepage. The main supply is hidden far down in
the earth, and until wells are sunk will stay there safe."
After all, it was very cozy there in the tent as long as the stove
burned. Fortunately the rain came from another direction, so they could
have the flat open, and so get a fair amount of light and air. The table
could be dispensed with during the time they were thus imprisoned, for
being agile boys they did not consider it much of a hardship to curl
their legs under them, tailor fashion, while they discussed their
breakfast.
Steve later on got out a book of travel and adventure which he had
fetched along for a rainy day, but which, previously, he had not thought
to look at. As the morning began to pass he lay there on his blanket and
devoured the graphic account of hardships endured by some dauntless
party of explorers who had sought the region of the frozen Antarctic,
and come very near losing their lives while there. Now and again Steve
would shiver and ask Toby if he wouldn't please drop the flap of the
tent a little.
"Not much I will," protested that worthy, vigorously. "It's hot enough
in here now nearly to cook a fellow, and none too light, either. Suppose
you tuck away that book of the ice regions, which is what makes you
shake all over when you're reading about the terrible cold they endured.
Keep it for a sizzling hot day, Steve, when it'll do you good to shiver
a little."
"Huh! guess I might as well," grunted the other, as though convinced.
"Besides, it's getting on toward eleven, I reckon, and I really ought to
be thinking of starting my baking."
"You're away off this time, Steve," laughed Jack, who had a little
nickle watch along with him, though he seldom carried it on his person,
"because right now it is only a quarter to ten."
"Oh! what a long day this promises to be," groaned Steve.
"Can't beat yesterday in my opinion," claimed Toby. "I actually thought
the sun was nailed fast up there in the sky, because it didn't seem to
move an inch."
"That's because you were on the job every second," Jack told him. "A
watched pot never boils, they used to say; but of course it meant that
the water seemed to take an unusual time in bubbling."
So Steve yawned, and lolled in his blanket, until finally Jack told him
he might as well get busy if they expected to have a feast of camp
biscuits for lunch.
It was no easy task which Steve had set himself. First of all he
insisted on going out and fetching the rude table inside the tent, even
if it did crowd them a trifle.
"However could you expect a _chef_ to make biscuits, with never a
table to work at?" he threw at Toby when the latter ventured to
complain; and of course after that they allowed Steve to have his own
way, though Toby hung around to quiz him, until the other ordered him
off.
"You'll queer these delicacies if you bother me any more, Toby," he told
him severely. "Our cook says you ought almost to hold your breath when
making them, because it's always easy for them to drop. Mebbe she was
joshing me, but I don't want to be bothered and forget to put the baking
powder or the salt in."
Toby kept a roaring fire going, and finally the pan of biscuits was
popped into the oven. Steve looked a bit anxious, realizing that his
reputation as a cook was now at stake.
"Since we've got this table inside here," spoke up Jack, "we might as
well make all the use of it we can, chucking it out again in the rain
when supper is over. Here's a box one can sit on, and we'll rig up seats
for the others somehow."
"Hurrah!" cried Steve, on hearing this. "That gives my legs a chance to
keep out of snarls. I never could curl up like some fellows. But I
wonder how they're coming on inside the oven?"
"What, your legs?" exclaimed Toby, jeeringly; "why, I didn't know we
were going to be treated to roast _mutton_ today, did you, Jack?"
Steve took a peep.
"Believe me, they're beginning to turn a light brown already; and say,
they look as light as any Mary Ann ever made at our house," was his
joyous announcement.
He seemed to act as though the fate of nations depended on the
successful issue of his first camp baking. Indeed, Toby was secretly
almost as much concerned as Steve, for he dearly loved hot biscuits, and
counted himself a pretty good judge of them.
To dismiss the subject, it may be said that Steve's experiment turned
out to be a success. Jack congratulated him on making such dainty
biscuits; while Toby declared that the proof of the pudding lay in the
eating; and the fact that he was making such desperate inroads on the
stack that graced the dish in the center of the table showed his
appreciation.
So Steve was made very happy, and readily promised that there would be
no lack of fresh bread while the stock of flour held out, and that dandy
little stove was in working order.
The afternoon proved terribly long to all of them. Sometimes they would
take turns at dozing, for the patter of the rain among the leaves, and
on the canvas above their heads, made a sort of lullaby that induced
sleep. Several times the rain would die out for a short time, only to
make a fresh start again after exciting false hopes.
"Well," observed Jack, as evening drew on apace, "we might have been a
whole lot worse off. The tent hasn't leaked a drop, that I've noticed;
and thanks to the stove we've been comfortable enough. Let's hope it'll
rain itself out during the night, and give us a chance to get moving
tomorrow."
This did not prove to be the case, for it turned out to be one of those
easterly storms that usually last the better part of three days, with
almost a constant downpour, though not very heavy at any time.
When another day came, it was still dark and gloomy, though not raining
just then. They managed to get a chance to stretch themselves outside
before it set in again. Steve was the one who did most of the
complaining, though Toby grumbled quite a bit also.
Along toward noon, it brightened up some. Toby even declared with bated
breath that he fancied he glimpsed a tiny patch of blue sky, "large
enough to make a pair of trousers."
"But the signs all show that it's clearing off," observed Steve,
exultantly, fixing his weather-sharp eye on the aforesaid patch of azure
sky. "You know the old saying is, 'Between eleven and two it'll tell you
what it's going to do,' so I'm counting on our having a decent afternoon
of it."
His prediction proved to be correct. The clouds began to part, and at
exactly noon, according to Jack's watch, the sun looked out from behind
the dark curtains that had hidden his genial face for so long a spell.
"It'll take the whole afternoon for the woods to get decently dry
again," Jack was saying just then; "so we'll have to keep quiet for a
little spell. But I've got a scheme on foot that will take two of us
away all of tomorrow, and perhaps the day afterwards, leaving one to
guard the camp. And you two fellows must toss up to see who goes, and
who stays."