The Quarry Shed
Barry and Kent stood in the storm-tossed woods and gazed with sinking
hearts at the ledge of rock before them. It told them in unmistakable
terms that they were lost and, as Barry had truly said, at a very
serious time. After all of their recent pushing on, they were right back
at the place where they had been a short time before.
“I wonder how we came to go around like that?” Kent asked, as he brushed
snow from the front of his coat and tried to see around him.
“Easy to do in a blinding storm like this one,” Barry replied. “Well,
we’re into it for fair. Shall we try it again, or turn back to Fox
Point?”
“I don’t want to turn back,” Kent protested. “Mac and Tim will be badly
worried, and I’d like to make it through, if we possibly can. Which way
do you think we ought to go?”
“I thought we were going right, and yet we came around in a circle.
Trouble is, it is getting so confounded dark. Want to try going on
again?”
“Yes, and we’ll go more west than we have been going. We can’t stand
here and freeze.”
They started forward once more, striking out in a new direction which
seemed to both of them to be the right way. The wind was searching and
they lowered their heads, both to keep their faces out of the cutting
blast and to shelter their eyes from the driving snow. The sled,
dragging along back of them, made slow progress through the mounting
snow, and it caught frequently on the snags and bushes. From time to
time they changed and took turns pulling it, but after a time Barry
halted and came close to his chum, whom he could scarcely see in the
gloom.
“I think we ought to leave the sled,” he shouted.
Kent nodded, knocking snow off of his collar. “I have been thinking
that, too,” he returned. “We can’t make any progress with it.”
“We’ll put it somewhere near a landmark, so that we will be able to find
it again,” Barry proposed, trying to look around. “After the storm we
can come back and locate it.”
“If we ever do come back alive,” said Kent.
Barry slapped him on the back. “We’ll come back, all right. We’re only
temporarily bewildered in a snowstorm. Let’s find a place to leave the
sled.”
Kent took his flashlight off the hook on his belt and flashed it around.
The light of it revealed falling flakes and an ever-increasing depth of
snow on the ground. Advancing a few yards, they came to a tall shaft of
rock and earth that formed a shelter from the driving power of the New
England storm. It was with relief that they got out of the direct path
of the wind.
“Here is as good a place as any,” Barry proclaimed, pulling the sled in
close to the foot of the small bluff. “We may have a hard time finding
the spot, but at least we know the sled will be under an overhang of
dirt and stone. This wouldn’t be a bad place in which to spend the
night, if we had to.”
“I hate the thought of staying out in this cold all night,” Kent shook
his head.
“So do I. Seems like my skin is pinched hard. I wonder if we can’t start
a fire going here and eat something?”
Kent again flashed the light around. “It will be a hard job, but it will
be worth trying. I think we can get some dry wood out of that log over
there. As long as we have the sled with us, we ought to use the food on
it.”
“You’re right. We haven’t anything to make coffee in, and about the only
food we can eat is the steak we bought. We can spear that on a stick and
cook it. Let’s try it.”
Almost feeling their way, they began to chop into the wet log with the
camp axes which they carried at their belts. The top wood was soft and
pulpy, and even that which they hacked out of the heart of the log was
not very dry. After the most tiresome efforts they succeeded in getting
a pile of questionable wood together, and then came the task of setting
it afire. Both of them huddled close to the pile and jealously guarded
the tiny flame of the matches as they attempted to ignite the sticks and
bits of wood. Six matches were soon wasted.
“This looks hopeless,” Barry sighed. “Even the good store paper won’t
light.”
Kent jumped up. “What dummies we are! This storm has us buffaloed! We
have two long containers of kerosene oil on the sled!”
“Oh, good night!” exclaimed Barry, in disgust. “Of course we have! Douse
this wood with it and then we won’t have any trouble starting our fire.”
Unscrewing the top of a container, Kent poured some of the oil on the
massed-up wood and then replaced the oil can on the sled. This time they
had no difficulty, and when the match flame touched the oil-soaked wood,
the fire ran rapidly from chip to chip until all were blazing. The cold
and hungry boys stooped low and held out grateful hands to the flame.
“Doesn’t a fire feel good?” Kent exulted.
“Doesn’t it?” his companion echoed. He straightened up and began to
search under the sled canvas for the steak which they had purchased at
Fox Point. “We’ll have to get at our cooking right away, because when
the oil burns off, this wood is going to be poor material, especially
when we add more to it.”
“You’re right about that,” Kent acknowledged. “I’ll cut a couple of
sharp sticks to cook the steak on.” He took out his hunting knife and
hacked at some bushes that showed dimly in the shadows from the fire.
Before long he had procured two fine shafts, and then he proceeded to
sharpen a point on each one. In the meantime Barry cut the steak in two
and then cut it again.
“Maybe some of those things on the sled ought to go with us when we
leave here,” he observed, as he thrust the pointed stick through the
steak. “We don’t know how long we may be on the march, and we’ll want
food with us.”
“Too bad we haven’t got a knapsack along,” Kent declared.
“It is, but we have some good pockets that will take a few things. Once
this storm clears, we’ll be able to see something. Unfortunately, we
don’t know when it will let up.”
They became silent, holding the portions of steak over the blaze, and
soon the meat was browning and the juice dripping into the fire. As
Barry had said, the quality of the blaze soon became poor, and when
fresh fuel was added it was uncertain and smoky. But they managed to eat
their steak, and it went a long way toward giving them a better feeling.
“I missed salt and bread with it,” Kent smiled, as they finished the
steak. “But it certainly was good all by itself. Well, what shall we
do?”
“I believe that we ought to go on. This fire doesn’t amount to anything,
and there is no use hanging around here all night. We don’t want to use
up our oil on the fire, and we would have to work all night to cut wood
for it.”
“Then let’s tie the canvas down tight over the sled and cover it up with
some branches so that no wandering animal can get into it,” Kent
proposed, and they spent some time in doing this. When this task had
been attended to, they set out once more, heading into the dashing
flakes once more.
“The twins will be badly worried,” Barry said, as they stumbled along,
making better time now that they were no longer held back by the burden
of the sled.
“Yes, they will. I hope they won’t come out and try to find us.”
“I doubt that they will. They can see how bad the storm is and that they
would be lost in no time at all. Boy, that flashlight of yours is a
life-saver!”
There was no question that the flashlight was tremendously valuable.
Kent used it sparingly and turned it on only at intervals, but it guided
them on their journey. They kept on going and at last were ready to give
up in despair, as they had passed no home and even the country did not
look familiar to them. At last Barry halted and looked around.
“Flash your light up,” he directed. “Where are we?”
Kent played the light around him, and they saw that they were in an old
quarry. The rock walls gleamed in the faint light of the flash.
“A quarry!” Barry cried.
Kent played the light down toward the ground, and they saw a small shed.
“There is shelter, if we need it,” he began. At that moment the
flashlight slipped out of his hand and fell into the snow. “Doggone it,”
he grumbled. “I dropped the light.”
Both of them stooped to search for it and then paused as they heard a
sound near them. Someone was approaching, and they felt a great relief
as they realized it. Neither of them spoke, and a moment later a light
flashed out, evidently from a flashlight. The beam rested on the shed,
and the boys waited to see the face or form of the one who held it. But
they were destined to be disappointed. A hand came into the center of
light and turned the knob on the shed door. The hand was sheltered in a
black glove, and that was all that they saw of the person who opened the
door of the quarry shed. The light was instantly extinguished and the
door slammed shut. They heard a key turn in the lock.
“Wonder who that was?” Kent asked. He had found the flashlight, and they
both stood up and tried to see things more clearly.
“I don’t know. Funny he didn’t hear us or see our light.”
“The wind is too loud for him to have heard us. Seems as though he
should have seen our light. Going to ask for some help?”
“Of course. We don’t know our way, and we need to have someone tell us.
We’ll knock on the door.”
Approaching the small quarry shed, Barry knocked on the door, and they
waited. The wind still blew strongly, and the flakes drifted down into
the abandoned quarry. No answer came to their summons, and Barry tried
again. They listened with growing impatience.
“It’s a wonder he wouldn’t open the door or at least call out,” Kent
growled.
Barry took Kent’s flashlight and flashed the beam around. The shed was
backed up against a dirt section of the quarry wall, and the windows
were boarded up. It was impossible to look into the little shelter. He
walked around on the far side and found that conditions there were the
same. Then they once more stood before the door and listened.
Barry kicked the door. “Is anybody here?” he shouted. “We’re two boys
that have lost our way, and we want to ask directions.”
The only answer was a profound stillness from the inside of the quarry
shed. The boys looked at each other, and angry thoughts leaped into
their minds. They had been adrift in the cold and storm so long that
this lack of common humanity on the part of the man whom they had seen
enter the shed aroused them.
“He’s hiding in there and won’t answer,” Kent cried. “We ought to kick
the door in!”
“I’d like to know what he’s hiding for,” Barry said. “He must have some
reason for not wanting to talk to us.”