THE COOK SHACK DISASTER
"First of all," Dick continued, "it's going to be chilly, soon, in this
shack. Put on some fuel, Harry, won't you?"
Hazelton complied with the request. By a common instinct all of the
Grammar School boys gathered closely around the stove, extending their
hands and warming themselves.
"The battle can't be ours a bit too soon," observed Tom Reade dryly.
"We've simply got to eat soon. Too bad we carted all of Mr. Fits's
larder into the cabin this afternoon."
"But what are we going to do about retaking our cabin," pressed that
budding young war horse, Darrin.
"I'm thinking fast over every plan that comes to me," Dick answered
thoughtfully. "If any of you other fellows think of one first don't be
backward with it. I'll promise not to be jealous."
"Hang that Dutcher hound, anyway!" growled Tom Reade angrily. "I can't
get over his mean, dirty work."
"The best way is not to mention the fellow," Dick answered coldly. "He's
not worth it."
"Oh, he isn't, eh?" muttered a boy who had just stolen softly to the
outside of the shack door and now stood there listening. That
eavesdropper was Hen Dutcher, who had slipped out of the cabin to see
how life fared with the boys whom he didn't like.
Then Hen, still eavesdropping, listened to enough more to make sure that
Dick & Co. were all of them free of their bonds, and that these
enterprising Grammar School boys were actually discussing plans to rout
the enemy from the log cabin.
"Oh, I'll have to hustle back and tell this to Ripley's crew," chuckled
Hen gleefully. "It'll amuse 'em."
"What's that?" demanded Ripley, when the informer returned to the cabin
with his news. "Prescott and his collection of babies are going to make
trouble for us, are they? Can't they stand a good joke like men? Come
along, fellows, and we'll teach 'em a little more about being real men."
"We'd better take something in our hands, then," proposed Dodge firmly.
"Those little fellows are regular spitfires. They may have something
ready to throw at us when we break into the shack."
"Oh, take axes, then, if you are afraid of the little kids," retorted
Fred scornfully. "My hands are enough for me."
Four or five of the rowdyish crowd picked up sticks that they had
carried through the forest that afternoon. Thus prepared, they went out
of the log cabin on tip-toe, making their way stealthily to the door of
the shack.
"Say, fellows," Harry was at that moment proposing to his friends
inside, "hadn't we better drop the bar across the door? We can't tell
when we may receive an unexpected visit from----"
"How will now do?" roared Fred Ripley, throwing the shack door open
before Greg could drop the bar in place. "So you young smarties managed
to free yourselves, did you? And you thought you'd find a way to put a
trick over on us? You'll have to take to getting up earlier in the day,
if you expect to get the better of any crowd that I'm leading."
Ripley's crew were now all of them in the shack, crowding the little
place.
"What is it that you're scheming to do, anyway?" leered Fred, enjoying
the looks of dismay on the faces of Dick & Co. "See here, don't you
little boys think that it's about time for you all to line up and start
a footrace out of these woods?"
"No; we don't," Dick retorted defiantly. "We think it's high time,
though, for your crowd to start just such a race."
"Hold your tongue, freshie!" ordered Fred roughly.
"Not for you!" Dick snapped, his temper going up as the mercury climbs
on a hot day.
"Then I'll make you!" offered young Ripley, making a spring at Dick.
But Dick & Co. were now all together, standing in a firm fighting line.
Fred received punches from the fists belonging to three different school
boys, and fell back, red and panting.
"Sail in, everybody!" ordered Fred. "These simpletons haven't sense
enough to stand a good joke on themselves."
It was an unmanly thing to do. Some of the boys in Ripley's crowd had no
idea of going further than having rather rough "fun." However, the
shack, in an instant, was the scene of a lively mix-up. In the midst of
the excitement Bert Dodge drove Harry Hazelton against the stovepipe. It
came down, showering soot all over Fred's face and down his neck. In the
excitement that followed, and during the rush of some of the boys to get
out of the flying cloud of soot, the stove itself was overturned. Red
embers flew about in every direction. The door being open, the wind
helped to set the cabin ablaze.
"Now you've done it!" panted Dick, holding up one hand and trying to put
a stop to the trouble. "Quit fighting and help put the fire out."
"You youngsters put it out yourselves, then," Fred retorted. "It was all
your fault that it started."
An indignant denial came to Dick's lips, but he forced it back. This
shack was another's property, and personal differences must be kept in
the background until the blaze had been extinguished.
"Let me past you," demanded Dick indignantly, but Bert Dodge barred the
doorway until the mounting flames scared Ripley, who turned and yelled
to Dodge to let the boys out. Dick & Co. raced to the log cabin, where
they caught up the water buckets, a dishpan and other utensils that
would hold water. Dick also snatched up a hatchet, for he knew that the
spring would be frozen over.
Fast as they worked at the spring, the shack was well ablaze by the time
that the Grammar School boys returned with the first water.
"Why don't you fellows brace up and do something, Ripley?" Dick queried,
as he ran up with water.
"What is there for us to do?" Fred demanded rather soberly.
"Find something to do. Show yourself a man."
"Now, don't you turn impudent again," Ripley warned young Prescott
angrily. "It was that sort of thing that started the first trouble."
"You'd better find something to do, for your father has charge of this
property," Dick shot back over his shoulder, as he ran toward the
spring.
[Illustration: Dick and Dave Were Boosted to the Cabin Roof.]
"Look!" called Dave, as Dick & Co. started once more for the spring.
"It's too late. This little bit of water won't do anything for the
shack. See the sparks fly! They'll fall on the roof of the cabin, and
that will go, too."
The blaze was now fast reaching the roof of the shack. Blazing little
flakes of fire were soaring up toward the sky.
"We can't save the shack. We can't get water fast enough!" Prescott
called. "We must try to wet down the roof of the cabin, to keep it from
getting afire."
Fred Ripley and Bert Dodge now appeared to be thoroughly frightened.
Without waiting to be asked, they came forward to help boost Dick and
Dave up to the roof of the log cabin. As fast as the water came Dick or
Dave dashed it over the side of the cabin roof that was more exposed to
sparks from the shack, every particle of snow having been blown off the
roof by the furious wind that had prevailed.
"Look!" called Tom. "The wind is coming up--it's carrying the sparks
away from the cabin."
"No need to bring more water, then," sang out Fred Ripley, in a voice of
intense relief. "It's all right if the sparks aren't blowing toward the
cabin."
"Keep bringing water," disputed Dick, "until the shack is completely
burned down. We can't take any chances."
But at last even Dick Prescott was satisfied with the quantity of water
that had been poured over the cabin's roof. Before the new breeze the
sparks were steadily being carried the other way.
"We'll stop, now," Dick announced. "We can start again at any time that
the wind changes to this quarter."
"What are you going to tell your father about this, Ripley?" Dave Darrin
asked presently.
"Nothing," replied Fred, with a start.
"Is that all you ever tell him about your misdeeds?" inquired Tom dryly.
"This isn't my misdeed," Fred snapped. "You fellows started all the
trouble."
"I suppose we even invited your crowd to come over here this afternoon
and steal our food?" Dave continued.
"Now, you youngsters will get trouble started all over again, if you
don't look out," Fred threatened the Grammar School boys.
"You'd better leave us alone," suggested Dick, "and make up your mind
about what you're going to tell your father when he hears about this."
"Who's going to tell him?" snarled young Ripley.
"I don't know."
"Are you, Dick Prescott?" insisted Fred.
"Not unless I have to."
"Don't you dare go to spreading this yarn around Gridley!"
"I won't promise," Dick made answer. "I don't want to carry tales if I
can help it, but we're bound to report to your father that the cook
shack was burned down while we were here."
"You can tell my father that it was your own carelessness, and let it go
at that," suggested Ripley.
"Humph! I like the cool nerve of your idea," Dick jeered.
"That's what you'll tell my father, if you know what's good for you,"
Fred went on. "That's all I've got to say, but you'll be sorry if you
don't take my advice."
Though the temperature was some degrees below zero in the forest that
evening, none of the boys near the log cabin felt at all cold. The
shack, whose roof soon fell in, still burned briskly enough to keep all
hands warm.
"Watch your chance to dart into the cabin when you see me start. Move
fast when the time comes. Tell Tom and Harry when you get a chance, but
don't let the Ripley crowd suspect."
Dick then found chance to pass the message to Greg and Dan.
Five minutes later Dick sauntered back to the corner of the cabin at the
front side. Dave approached from another direction. Tom and the others
caught the meaning of the move. Then, all of a sudden, there was a
scampering of feet.
"Look out!" yelled telltale Hen. "That crowd is up to something!"
"I know what they're up to!" shouted Fred. "Follow me!"
The older boys charged the cabin door, but they reached it just as Greg
was dropping the bar into place.
"Get in through the windows--quick!" shouted Ripley. He himself made a
dash for one of the windows. Click! went a shutter before his face, and
the locking-pin was dropped in. In a trice all the shutters were in
place.
Dick & Co. were in their castle!
"You fellows open that door!" stormed Fred Ripley.
"Come inside and make us!" mocked Dick.
"Open that door," summoned Fred, "or we'll get a log and use it for a
battering ram. We can get the door down that way!"
Dick felt a throb of dismay. It would be possible to get the door down
by the aid of a battering ram, if the boys outside could find a
sufficiently large log and had the strength to use it.