THE PROWLER OF THE NIGHT
The six youngsters stood looking curiously at one another.
"I wonder who it can be?" muttered Dan.
"Some one who has no business here, anyway," returned Tom Reade
bluntly.
"I wonder if it's some one who did live here, or some one who thinks
he's going to keep on living here?" asked Dave Darrin dryly.
"Just the same, I'd like to know who has been living here," Dick went
on. "For that matter, who would want to live here, in the depths of the
woods in winter?"
"Well, we do, for one crowd," Greg reminded him.
"Yes; but we're boys with a craze for open air and something different,"
Prescott maintained. "Now, if men have been living here, the case is
different. Men don't care about schoolboy junkets. If the man or men who
have been living here are honest, I don't mind. Such men will move on if
they find that we're here, and that we alone have the proper authority
to live here. But suppose the men are not honest? Or rough characters?"
"It will depend on how many there are of them," responded Dan, with one
of his broad grins.
"Why?" challenged Dick. "If we had to fight for the right to live in
this cabin, how many do you think we could thrash?"
"Oh, I guess it won't come to that," remarked Tom Reade coolly.
"And I hope it won't come to that, or anything like it," Dick replied.
"But just the same, you're going to be scared until you find out? Is
that it?" laughed Harry Hazelton.
Dick flushed, but he answered honestly:
"Until something happens I can't tell whether I'm going to be scared or
not. Anyway, perhaps I won't show the greatest amount of fright that is
displayed around here."
"Now, you're answered, Harry," muttered Dave in a low voice, his eyes
flashing. "No fellow in this crowd has any right to doubt that Dick
Prescott is all there with the grit when it's called for."
"Can't a fellow joke?" asked Hazelton.
"But, while all this talk is going on," chattered Dan, "I'm not growing
any warmer."
"All lend a hand, and we'll get the fireplace cleaned out and the fire
going," urged Dick.
After that they made matters fly. The old ashes and hot embers were
taken outside and spread. Logs were laid and coal oil spread over them.
A match was touched, flames leaped up in response to the heavy draft of
the broad chimney, and the interior of the old cabin seemed ablaze.
"My, but that's going to be plenty hot, and some more," chuckled Dan.
"Who'll chop the ice at the spring and get two buckets of water?" called
Dick.
"I will," Harry answered, and departed, Greg going along to help him. In
a short time Dick had water boiling in a kettle that hung over the fire.
"I don't suppose anyone cares for coffee?" proposed Dick, glancing about
him.
In a very short time the beverage was ready.
"Aren't we going to have something to eat, too?" Dan wanted to know, as
the young campers gathered at the table.
"What's the use of spoiling our supper, which is only a couple of hours
or so away?" asked Dave sensibly.
Though the coffee was weak, it was hot. The youngsters soon began to
warm up, and all became cheery.
"Oh, but this life is going to be great!" sighed Greg exultantly. "Say,
fellows, I'm glad I thought of this way of putting in a vacation. Won't
the other fellows in town be crazy when they hear what a great time
we've had?"
"What I want to know," Harry broke in, "is whether rabbits really do run
in the woods in winter? My mouth is made up for some rabbit stew."
"Maybe we can buy a couple of rabbits, then, from some farmer's son,"
suggested Dick dryly.
"Buy 'em?" sniffed Hazelton scornfully. "Huh! Next thing we know you'll
want some one to come in and do the housework!"
"It would be better done, then, I don't doubt," laughed Dick. "Now,
fellows, the clock tells us that it's quarter of four. That means
something like an hour more of daylight. I guess we've a few things to
do, haven't we?"
"Get supper!" proposed Dan.
"That's one of the things," nodded Dick. "Then there's water to be
brought in. In this nipping air I'll bet there's already more ice over
the spring. Then we ought to bring in a lot more logs for the fire.
It'll be harder work after dark. And some one ought to get potatoes
ready to put on over the fire. Then we ought to select our bunks and get
bedding in them. After that we want to tidy up this hard dirt floor.
Some one will need to wash the cups and saucers, and have 'em ready for
supper."
"Let's have some system to it, then," urged Dave. "Dick, you look about
and see what's needed. Then set each fellow to his task--and all the
rest will take any kicker down to the spring and duck him!"
"Lemme fix the potatoes, then," begged Dan. That being one of the
"disagreeable" tasks, no one objected. Dick parceled out the tasks, and
things were soon humming. While they were still busy, darkness had
settled down. But Greg had filled the lamp and the lantern, and had
them going, though the big, red fire filled the whole cabin with light.
"Whee! But this is jolly!" cried Greg, as he stood arranging his bedding
in the bunk he had chosen.
"It'll be more like fun to-morrow, though," suggested Dick, "when we can
have a whole, daylight day out in the woods. But I think we're all going
to be mighty comfortable here."
That was the general feeling. The Grammar School boys found themselves
filled with contentment.
"How are the potatoes coming on, Danny?" inquired Tom. "I'm so hungry I
can hardly stand up."
"Ready in ten minutes more, I reckon," Dan answered cheerily.
"Bully!"
Greg was cutting bread and getting butter out of a glass jar. Dave had
busied himself with opening two tins of meat. They had fresh meat, but
the latter was to be used on the morrow when their housekeeping
arrangements had been better made. For the present the meat and some
other perishable articles of food rested on the ground outdoors, under
an overturned box on which three large stones had been placed as
weights.
"It's six o'clock," called Dick at last. "Are we going to eat on time?"
"I'm all ready with the potatoes," Dan called back.
Dick once more busied himself with making weak coffee. Tom and Harry set
the dishes on the table with a cheery clatter. Then six fearfully hungry
boys sat down to table.
"There's no jam on the table," grunted Harry.
"Oh, wait until we get outside of the solid stuff before we bother with
sweets," begged Darrin.
It was nearly seven when the glorious meal was over. As nothing but
potatoes and coffee had depended on a cook, nothing went wrong with the
meal.
"Now, we can clean up and wash the dishes," proposed Dick Prescott.
"What's that?" demanded Tom Reade belligerently. "Work? Right on top of
a supper like that?"
"I guess we do all feel more like taking a nap," laughed Dick. "Well,
we'll rest for half an hour and see if we feel more like effort then.
What do you say if we all pull our chairs up to the fire?"
"How close to the fire?" asked Dan, screening his eyes with his fingers
as he glanced at the blazing logs.
"Oh, not too close for comfort, of course," agreed Dick. "But come on.
We can swap stories."
"Will they be anything like the spanking story that good Old Dut told
you last September, Dick?" teased Dave.
"Not right away, I guess," smiled Dick. "I don't believe any fellow,
after that big supper, feels as if he had energy enough to tell a
spanking story. But what kind of stories shall we tell?"
"I'll wait for some one else to start it," yawned Tom, as he took his
seat in the semi-circle at a respectful distance from the blaze.
"Who else is going to be a quitter or a loafer?" inquired Dave
scornfully.
There was a pause. No one appeared to have a story that he wanted to try
out on such a critical audience.
At last Dick remarked thoughtfully:
"As the man on the clubhouse steps said----"
Then he paused, as if he had forgotten the matter.
"Well," insisted Greg presently, "what did the man on the clubhouse
steps say?"
"Eh?" inquired Dick, gazing at him with mock blankness.
"What did the man on the clubhouse steps say?" repeated Greg.
"Oh--er--that is--it's really a secret," Dick replied provokingly.
"Now, see here, none of that!" growled Tom.
"Eh?" demanded Dan, awaking from a light doze, with a start and a
subdued snore.
"Dick Prescott, you tell us what the man on the clubhouse steps said!"
ordered Tom.
"But I've just told you that it's a secret."
"None of that, now!"
"But I can't tell secrets!" pleaded Dick.
"It isn't a secret at all. It's a good story, and you've got to let it
come out. We need a good one to get us started."
All now joined in the demand, but Dick shook his head protestingly.
"Honestly, fellows, it wouldn't be right for me to tell secrets," he
insisted.
The inner bar that locked the door by night had been dropped into place
ere the boys sat down to supper. But now Harry rose, went over to the
door and raised the bar.
"Fellows," he called back, "give Dick Prescott just one more swift
chance to tell us what the man on the clubhouse steps said. If he won't,
then grab him and fire him out into the night until he knocks on the
door and promises to be good."
Tom, Greg and Dave made a laughing bolt for their young leader.
"Some one's pulling the latch-string from outside," reported Harry
Hazelton, too startled, for the moment, to let the bar fall. But Tom
wheeled like a flash, leaped forward and dropped the bar back into
place.
"It's the fellow, or fellows, who have been living here before we came,"
whispered Dan in a half-scared voice.