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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Safety First Club and the Flood, by W.
+T. Nichols
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: The Safety First Club and the Flood
+
+Author: W. T. Nichols
+
+Illustrator: F. A. Anderson
+
+Release Date: February 18, 2021 [eBook #64566]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed
+             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy of
+             the Digital Library@Villanova University
+             (http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB AND THE
+FLOOD ***
+
+Transcriber’s Notes:
+
+Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
+
+Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+[Illustration: HIS NEW COMRADE WAS RACING ACROSS THE FIELDS]
+
+
+
+
+THE Safety First Club _and_ the Flood
+
+
+  BY
+  W. T. NICHOLS
+
+  _Author of_ “THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB”
+
+  Illustrated by
+  F. A. ANDERSON
+
+  THE PENN PUBLISHING
+  COMPANY PHILADELPHIA
+  1917
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+COPYRIGHT 1917 BY THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY
+
+[Illustration]
+
+The Safety First Club and the Flood.
+
+
+
+
+Introduction
+
+
+The one school which never needs a truant officer is the School of
+Experience. Whether we like it or not, we have to go to this school,
+all of us; but whether we shall profit by its lessons or waste the
+instruction is wholly a matter of our own choice. In this story Sam
+Parker and his friends, some of whose experiences have been earlier
+set forth in the first volume of this series, “The Safety First Club,”
+take a new course, so to speak, with resultant profit to themselves.
+“The Safety First Club and the Flood” finds this group of boys, and
+especially its leader, Sam, worried, beset and tried by problems new to
+them, perplexing, baffling; not very grave problems, at first glance,
+but serious enough in the eyes of the boys and not unimportant in their
+consequences--a phase of life, in short, which has very direct concern
+to young or old.
+
+Sam learns his lesson; his mates learn theirs. Incidentally, they
+undergo trials of the flesh and of the spirit, and are the better for
+both. They meet adventure which, it is hoped, will be found to the
+taste of the friends the chums have made and may make through this
+volume and those which are to follow it.
+
+
+
+
+Contents
+
+
+      I. THE CLUB CONFERS                       9
+
+     II. VARLEY GETS ACQUAINTED                24
+
+    III. UNCOMFORTABLE GLORY                   39
+
+     IV. SAM’S COUNSELLOR                      60
+
+      V. SNOW-SHOES                            73
+
+     VI. A LITTLE LUNCH                        92
+
+    VII. THE SHARK LECTURES                   105
+
+   VIII. POKE’S MYSTERY                       117
+
+     IX. SAM GETS A REMINDER                  133
+
+      X. THE BLOW DESCENDS                    148
+
+     XI. THE GREAT MINCE PIE OF SUGAR VALLEY  163
+
+    XII. EXPLORING THE VALLEY                 185
+
+   XIII. THE SHARK DEMONSTRATES               202
+
+    XIV. THE HUNT                             220
+
+     XV. THE HOUSE OF REFUGE                  237
+
+    XVI. BLIND TRAILS                         256
+
+   XVII. THE RISING FLOOD                     272
+
+  XVIII. THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT               288
+
+    XIX. WHAT BEFELL POKE AND STEP            309
+
+     XX. THE PRIZE SNATCHED FROM THE FLOOD    326
+
+    XXI. POKE OUT OF BONDAGE                  346
+
+
+
+
+Illustrations
+
+
+                                                          PAGE
+
+  HIS NEW COMRADE WAS RACING ACROSS THE FIELDS  _Frontispiece_
+
+  “GRIN AND BEAR IT”                                        70
+
+  “YOU CAN’T RAISE THE MONEY”                              160
+
+  ANOTHER OF HIS PRECIOUS MATCHES                          248
+
+  “WE’LL HAVE TO DRIFT ASHORE SOMEWHERE”                   320
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Safety First Club and the Flood
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I THE CLUB CONFERS
+
+
+It was not a cheerful afternoon. Overhead were heavy, gray clouds,
+and underfoot was snow, long fallen, crusted by alternate thawing and
+freezing, dingy with the queer winter dust, which comes from nobody
+knows exactly where. In the beaten track of the roadways was an icy
+surface, made still more slippery by a thin coating, at once grimy
+and greasy, offering easy traction for the sledges, piled high with
+wood, which now and then came crunching along the streets. But it was
+full of peril to the motor cars, a few of which were abroad, skidding
+wildly at corners in spite of chained tires and careful driving. Out
+in the fields the snow was perhaps a foot deep. Where paths had been
+shoveled the long mounds beside the walks rose almost to the waist of a
+man of average height. Altogether, it was a typical February scene in
+Plainville, a town well to the north, accustomed to hard winters and
+making the best of one of them, scarcely enjoying the experience but
+accepting it as inevitable.
+
+Sam Parker, muffled to the chin, mittened and rubber-shod, appeared to
+be imitating the example set by the town. He trudged along, whistling
+bravely if not blithely; and quickened tune and pace a trifle when he
+came in sight of a little building in the lee of a big house. Turning
+in at the gate, he hurried up the path to the smaller building; rapped
+thrice upon the door--there was hint in the performance of hasty
+observance of a customary rite; and, without awaiting a response,
+opened the door and strode in.
+
+It was a curious room he entered, low-ceiled, rough of wall and
+floor, furnished with the most miscellaneous collection imaginable of
+discarded chairs, tables and lounges from half a dozen homes. There
+were rugs which showed signs of long and hard wear; there were old
+pictures in frames still bearing the dust they had gathered in years
+of retirement in garrets and storerooms. Other pictures, unframed and
+evidently cut from newspapers and magazines, were tacked here and there
+on the walls. Nevertheless, in spite of the confusion and disorder the
+place had a certain attractiveness and an air of easy-going comfort,
+with a suggestion that here one might do as one pleased. A visitor,
+skilled in such matters, might have more than suspected that once upon
+a time this had been a stable, but now anybody who could read must
+quickly grasp its present uses; for boldly chalked on an old blackboard
+was inscribed in capital letters
+
+  “THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB.”
+
+Sam pulled off his cap and overcoat, and tossed them into a corner.
+His overshoes followed them. Then, being relieved of his out-of-door
+toggery, he crossed to the stove, and stood beside it, rubbing his
+hands in the grateful warmth. A plump youth moved aside to give him a
+place by the fire; and a boy, tall and thin and quaintly sharp-angled
+of knee and elbow, hailed him from the depths of a dilapidated
+steamer-chair.
+
+“Huh, Sam! Know anything?”
+
+“Nothing new, Step,” Sam answered.
+
+The boy in the low chair grunted dismally. “Ugh! Confound it, there
+never is--this time of year, anyway!”
+
+Sam did not attempt to debate the point. For a moment he regarded
+Step thoughtfully--“Step,” it may be explained, was a contraction of
+“Stepladder,” a nickname bestowed by his mates upon Clarence Jones
+because of a degree of resemblance in his physical make-up to that
+useful article of household equipment. Then Sam’s glance went to the
+plump boy, Arthur Green in official records, but “Poke” to those
+honored with his intimate acquaintance. One could poke a finger almost
+anywhere into the well-rounded Arthur; hence the sobriquet.
+
+“Poke” Green appeared to be meditating. His lips were pursed, and there
+was a line in his forehead. He loved his bit of philosophy, did Poke;
+but it took time for him to put his meditations into words.
+
+Sam’s gaze traveled to a group about a table, on which were scattered
+magazines and a number of well-thumbed books. Two of the boys nodded.
+They were Herman Boyd and Harry Walker, more often called the “Trojan”;
+and they were good fellows and tried and true members of the Safety
+First Club. So, for that matter, was a bespectacled youngster, who from
+his place at the Trojan’s elbow was regarding Sam with a peculiar air
+of solemnity. Sam, meeting his eye, gave him greeting.
+
+“Hullo, Shark! What are you trying to figure out now?”
+
+“Nothing,” said the other curtly.
+
+“Then you’re wasting time, you old wizard!” quoth Sam.
+
+The Shark made no reply. Doubtless, it seemed to him that none was
+needed. So he merely continued to peer through his spectacles at the
+newcomer, with a characteristic intentness which was all his own.
+
+Willy Reynolds, indeed, was often referred to as an “odd stick.” He
+had a mind of marked mathematical bent, and had proved himself so
+proficient in algebra, geometry and trigonometry as to puzzle and
+amaze his comrades, toiling along paths of learning which appeared to
+offer him only entertainment. So they dubbed him the “Shark,” because
+he always seemed hungry for mathematics.
+
+The door opened, and in came a thick-set, sturdily built chap.
+
+“Hi there, Orkney! Glad to see you!” Sam sang out. It might have been
+noted, too, that the others gave the latest arrival a welcome, each in
+his own way, even the Shark thawing temporarily. One acquainted with
+boys and their ways would have understood that there was some reason
+why they wished Orkney to feel himself among friends.
+
+The thick-set lad answered each in turn, his face lighting as he
+spoke. It was clear that he appreciated his reception, as well he
+might. Time had been--and not very long before--when Tom Orkney and
+the Safety First Club had been at swords’ points, and when each had
+woefully misjudged the other. A chapter of accidents had served first
+to increase the bitterness on both sides, and then to remove it by
+revealing how thoroughly it was due to mistakes and misunderstandings.
+And in the end, helped on by sharing common adventures and dangers, had
+come reconciliation and respect. In proof of its new and genuine regard
+the club had admitted Tom to its jealously guarded circle of membership.
+
+They were, it may be said, a good lot of boys; healthy youngsters in
+their teens--the Shark was the youngest and physically the weakest;
+well intentioned but not wise beyond their years; fond of fun and
+activity and no prophets of possible consequences of their escapades.
+But, as the title of their club indicated, they were learning their
+lesson in the school of experience. The wisdom of a policy of “Safety
+First” was impressed upon them, though as yet they were not too skilled
+in the application of the rule.
+
+While Tom Orkney was settling himself by the table, Step Jones again
+raised his voice in lamentation.
+
+“I tell you, fellows, this is the meanest, logiest, slowest, stupidest
+time of all the year. There’s nothing to do. The snow spoils the
+skating, and more than half the time the snow-shoeing and skiing are no
+good. Sleighing’s a bore, and coasting’s no use except for kids. And
+where does that leave you? Ugh!”
+
+Nobody answered Step’s question. There was a long silence, broken by
+that youth himself.
+
+“Worst winter I ever saw--yah!”
+
+Sam Parker shook his head doubtfully. “Oh, I don’t know about that,
+Step. Seems to me this is a good deal like all the rest of ’em.”
+
+“And if you want something to keep you busy, there’s always school,”
+put in the Trojan with a chuckle.
+
+“School? Oh, thunder!” snapped Step with scorn.
+
+Poke Green waved a hand, an oratorical hand; thereby signifying that he
+had reached a readiness to address the meeting.
+
+“Listen, you fellows! You don’t know what you’re talking about, because
+you start in and say things first and think about ’em afterward. So you
+get ’em about half right and half wrong.”
+
+“Go it, old Solomon!” Herman Boyd encouraged.
+
+Poke needed no spur. “Here’s Step calling this the worst winter that
+ever was, which it isn’t. And here’s Sam trying to make out that it’s
+just like any other winter, which it isn’t, either. If this climate
+ever got as monotonous as all that, it’d go out of business. There have
+been better winters that I can remember, and there have been worse. The
+trouble with all of them is that there is too much of a muchness about
+them.”
+
+Then the Shark spoke crisply: “Applying that to school, too?”
+
+“I am,” said Poke solemnly. “This term’s the long pull--no holidays to
+break it--no Thanksgiving--not even Washington’s birthday.”
+
+“They have it in lots of places,” the Trojan put in.
+
+“Well, we don’t--and I’m talking about us. So right through to the
+Easter recess we have to pound away, and it gets tiresome, I tell you.
+And what’s true of school is true of the weather. Winter’d be all right
+if it ended along in January. Everybody’d feel braced up and ready for
+spring. But does it happen that way? No, sir! Winter keeps on doing
+business along into March or April--yes, or into May.”
+
+“Our furnace was going last June,” Herman Boyd contributed.
+
+Sam’s expression was thoughtful. “Well, Poke,” he said, “I follow your
+argument--if it is an argument. But what does it lead to?”
+
+“To my conclusion,” quoth Poke with all possible gravity.
+
+“What is it?”
+
+Poke ran his glance over his club-mates; all were attentive.
+
+“What is it?” he repeated. “Can’t you see for yourselves that it can be
+only one thing? The trouble with us is that we need variety!”
+
+“But you said the weather was varied,” objected Sam.
+
+“But it’s winter weather all the time, just as school’s school, no
+matter whether you’re reciting Greek or trigonometry. Then there’s
+another point. In summer people are coming and going, and making
+visits; in winter everybody’s shut up more or less. We don’t get enough
+human variety.”
+
+Sam rubbed his chin. “Why--why, I don’t know but there’s something in
+your notion, after all,” he admitted.
+
+“There’s a lot!” Poke insisted triumphantly.
+
+It was not often that the Shark laughed; but he laughed now in a
+fashion which made his friends turn to him in surprise.
+
+“Ha, ha! You chaps seem to forget that we have with us in this town
+one Paul Varley. If he isn’t a queer variety of human, I’ll square the
+circle for you--and that’s something nobody has done yet.”
+
+“Oh, Varley!”
+
+“What! That dude?”
+
+“What have we got to do with him?”
+
+“Say! Isn’t he the limit?”
+
+The Shark listened calmly to these remarks of his friends.
+
+“Well, I said he represented variety, and I stick to it,” quoth he
+drily.
+
+Sam turned to Poke. “Do you mean that we ought to take in Varley?” he
+demanded a bit hotly.
+
+There was a murmur of dissent. Membership in the Safety First Club was
+not lightly granted, and Paul Varley was not high in favor.
+
+“I didn’t mean anything of the sort,” said the Shark. “But if anybody
+wants entertainment in this town this winter--why, there’s Varley to
+look at.”
+
+“Yes; and listen to,” Herman Boyd chimed in.
+
+“Huh! You talk as if you really knew him,” Step commented.
+
+“I do--after a fashion. But Orkney knows him better.”
+
+Tom Orkney shook his head. “Guess I’ll refer you to Sam; he knows him
+best of all.”
+
+“Oh, Varley’s a----” Sam began impatiently, but quickly checked
+himself. “I dare say he’s a very good fellow,” he added after a little
+pause.
+
+“Hang it, Sam, finish what you started to tell us!” cried Step.
+
+Sam hesitated. Among the lessons he had been learning was that Safety
+First might be as advisable in speech as in action. Besides, he wished
+to be fair. It might not happen that any of the club would have a great
+deal to do with Varley, but he was well aware that a few careless
+words might prejudice all of them against the newcomer.
+
+“Why--why, I’ve talked hardly half an hour with him altogether. He
+seemed to be good-natured.”
+
+“Didn’t he ride his high horse for you?”
+
+“Not much--very little,” said Sam. “Of course, he comes from a big
+city. And he’s been at big ‘prep’ schools. And he’s used to the rush,
+and crowds, and all that sort of thing. I don’t know, though, that he
+tried to rub it in--that we aren’t crowded here, I mean. And he did
+seem friendly--got to say that for him.”
+
+“Up here for his health, isn’t he?” queried Step. “Gay life knocked him
+out, didn’t it?”
+
+“He didn’t put it that way. He said he was rather run down, and so his
+folks shipped him up here to visit the Bateses--Mrs. Bates is his aunt,
+you know.”
+
+“How long is he going to stay?”
+
+“I don’t believe it’s settled.”
+
+“Huh! He’s rigged out as if he were on a polar expedition.”
+
+Sam’s lips twitched. “Well, he is outfitted pretty gorgeously.”
+
+“I should say he was!”
+
+“That’s nothing against him, though.”
+
+Poke wagged his head sagely. “No; fine feathers don’t make fine birds,
+or spoil ’em either. When you take time and think about it----”
+
+“You wait your turn, Poke,” Step objected. “Let Sam finish.”
+
+“I’m through,” said Sam.
+
+“Oh, I guess we’re all through with Varley before we really begin with
+him,” quoth Step. “We’ve got our crowd. I don’t see how he can make
+much difference to us. We’re all of us right here now, and----”
+
+Herman Boyd, who had been looking out of the window, whistled sharply,
+sprang to his feet, peered through the pane, then retreated swiftly.
+
+“Whew! Talk about angels or people!” he exclaimed. “Great Scott! but he
+must be coming here. I saw him turn in at the gate and----”
+
+“Who turned in?”
+
+“What are you driving at?”
+
+“Who’s coming?”
+
+They rained questions upon him; but Herman had no need to answer.
+Indeed, before he could do so, a hand was laid on the knob, and with no
+preliminary knock the door was swung. And there in the opening stood
+Paul Varley, quite at his ease and with a complacent smile on his face.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II VARLEY GETS ACQUAINTED
+
+
+There were seconds in which amazement held the members of the Safety
+First Club speechless and almost motionless.
+
+This open invasion of the privacy of the club was something wholly
+outside their experience. A boy who didn’t belong might call there,
+of course, if he wished to see one of the members; but he would
+be expected to halt outside and hail the club with a shout, or,
+at the most, to knock at the door and pause outside. And he would
+be quite as anxious to observe this code as the members would be
+anxious that he should observe it. A fellow didn’t care to enter
+where he was not wanted, and if he had been wanted, he would have
+been elected to membership. That was the way the matter was reasoned
+out. The conclusion was accepted by everybody in interest. So for
+one of the town boys to walk up to the door, and throw it open, and
+look in at the assembled coterie, and do these things calmly and
+unconcernedly--well, none of the town boys would have thus conducted
+himself. But there was Paul Varley doing these things quite as a matter
+of course, thus proving himself not of the town and at the same time
+bringing embarrassment to the club.
+
+Varley stepped into the room. “Hullo, everybody!” he said cheerily.
+“Thought I’d drop in for a minute--I’ve heard a lot about this joint of
+yours, you know.”
+
+There was no response; surprise still held the members of the club.
+
+Varley smiled genially. He was perhaps a year older than any of the
+Safety First boys, and a great deal more practised in some of the ways
+of the world. He ran his eye over the room, and spoke again:
+
+“Pretty nifty--what! Snug as a bug in a rug, aren’t you?”
+
+Oddly enough, it was the usually reticent Shark who first found tongue.
+
+“We like it.” He threw an emphasis on the “we,” to which Varley might
+have taken exception, had he been disposed to be critical. But the
+caller was not looking for trouble.
+
+“I should think you would,” he said smoothly. “Fixed it up yourselves,
+didn’t you? Thought so. More fun to do it.”
+
+It did not seem to occur to the Shark that it was his business to make
+reply, and nobody else volunteered. Varley took off his cap. It was a
+handsome cap of fur. He unbuttoned his overcoat; it was fur-lined. In
+fact, from head to heels he was outfitted for very cold weather, as if
+his garments had been selected for wear in semi-Arctic regions. Plainly
+enough, somebody had told him wonderful tales of winter temperatures
+“up country.”
+
+The evidences that Varley intended to make a stay of some length
+stirred Sam to his duties as unofficial head of the club. Somehow, the
+rôle of spokesman seemed to fall to him, in times of emergency, by a
+sort of common consent.
+
+“Er--er--why, how do you do?” he stammered. “Won’t you take a seat?”
+
+Varley shook his head. He was still smiling in his friendly fashion.
+
+“Why, no; I’d rather look about a bit, if I might,” said he. “I’d heard
+so much, one way or another, about this den of yours, that I made up
+my mind I’d make a call. Thought, too, I’d find you all in about this
+time of day. Say, you’ve got a cracking good hang-out! Said you fixed
+it yourselves, didn’t you?”
+
+Then up spoke the Shark, testily: “Nobody said that.”
+
+“But it’s the fact, all the same,” Sam hastened to remark. “Yes; what’s
+here we did, or made, or whatever you choose to call it.”
+
+“Smooth work, too,” said Varley quickly. “Garage once, wasn’t it?”
+
+Inasmuch as the club-house was the property of Step’s father, Step felt
+called upon to make reply.
+
+“No--stable.”
+
+Varley turned to the tall youth. “Whatever it began with being, it’s
+all right now. And it’s a bully good scheme you fellows have. Great
+place to loaf, this is!”
+
+Now this was said affably enough, and with no trace of the
+condescending note for which the boys were listening keenly. A chap--an
+older chap--from a big city might be disposed to be patronizing; and
+the Safety First Club did not care to be patronized. But no fault was
+to be found with Varley’s manner. Sam felt moved to explain the plan
+the crowd had followed.
+
+“Oh, we got together what we could,” said he. “Each one contributed.
+Somebody brought an old sofa, and somebody else a table his folks
+weren’t using any more, and so it went on. And if anybody had a
+picture he liked, he hung or tacked it up. That’s the way it went,
+and--er--er--that’s about the whole story.”
+
+Varley nodded, and crossed the room to examine an old engraving. From
+this he went to inspection of a very modern cartoon from a newspaper.
+
+“Liberty hall--I get the idea,” quoth he. “And I like it. Gives
+variety. By the way, it’s like the plan they have in some of the big
+clubs. Members contribute odds and ends--curios--they pick up. It’ll
+make quite a museum after a while.”
+
+“Or quite a junk shop!” interposed the Shark. He was staring hard at
+the visitor through his spectacles, and his expression was dubious,
+if not hostile. The other boys moved uneasily. They had begun to
+recover from the surprise of the visit, and to understand that Varley
+felt himself on a purely friendly errand. Therefore there should
+be allowance for his ignorance of the local code, and avoidance of
+controversy. The Shark’s speech embarrassed them, but not Varley. He
+laughed, lightly and good-naturedly.
+
+“You’re on the mark, at that. Museums and junk shops are a lot alike;
+but that doesn’t prevent ’em from being interesting. Why, I went into
+a queer old shop one day, and there was an old machine, with all sorts
+of rings and pivots, and hung on ’em was a--a--well, it looked like an
+oblong sphere and----”
+
+“What!” shouted the Shark.
+
+Varley glanced at him questioningly. “I beg your pardon?” he said with
+a touch of formality.
+
+The Shark drew a long breath. “An oblong sphere!” he repeated slowly.
+“Jee-whippiter!”
+
+Again it was Sam’s duty to explain. “Don’t let the Shark bother you. He
+means well, but he’s a bug on mathematics--and cones, and circles, and
+cubes, and spheres, and--er--er--and all that sort of thing. But he’s
+harmless.”
+
+Once more Varley’s laugh saved the situation. “I understand.
+And he’s right, at that. What I meant was, that the thing was
+egg-shaped--almost, but not quite. And that little difference in
+shape, the inventor figured, was just what would make it a perpetual
+motion machine, that would keep going forever, once you started it.
+Of course, it didn’t work. But I say!”--he was looking straight at
+the Shark--“I say! If you’re up in the ‘math’ I envy you. It’s my
+stumbling-block--gets me every time.”
+
+“Umph!” said the Shark non-committally. In his experience the world was
+strangely crowded with beings woefully deficient in the mathematical
+sense. He was learning to make allowances for their shortcomings. The
+visitor, by frank confession of incapacity, won a degree of toleration,
+if not of approval.
+
+“Yes; it gets me every time,” Varley went on. “I’ve had half a notion
+to see if I couldn’t go into the senior class at your high school,
+just to brush up on the mathematical review--maybe I shall yet. But
+first I want to get better acquainted with the town and the people.
+That’s why I dropped in on your crowd. And now that I’ve said ‘Howdy,’
+I’ll move along.”
+
+“Oh, don’t be in a hurry,” said Sam politely.
+
+For the first time the blackboard, with its boldly chalked inscription,
+caught Varley’s eye.
+
+“Hullo! What’s that? Safety First Club? Say, that’s a funny name for a
+lot of boys to pick out!”
+
+“Well, it pleases us,” said Sam, a little curtly.
+
+Varley’s ready smile was in evidence. “So I supposed, or you wouldn’t
+have chosen it. But it’s an odd name, all the same.”
+
+Sam hesitated an instant. “It--well, maybe it is odd. But some things
+happened to impress us with the need of looking before we leaped. So we
+agreed on the name. Then other things happened to impress us some more,
+and we kept it.”
+
+“I see,” said Varley; but then he repeated, “Safety First Club, Safety
+First?” as if he were still puzzled. “Somehow, that seems to bar a lot
+of fun.”
+
+“Oh, we manage to get along.”
+
+“Where do you draw the line between what’s safe and what isn’t?”
+
+Again Sam hesitated. “Why--why, I guess there isn’t any general rule.
+You have to settle each case as it comes.”
+
+“But what’s the rule for settling it?”
+
+The Shark came to Sam’s assistance. “Law of chances,” he said curtly.
+
+“Meaning----?”
+
+“Can you get away with it? Can’t dodge all risks, can you? But when you
+have to take one, isn’t there a safer way than the first way you think
+of? Just stop and figure. It pays!”
+
+Varley shook his head. “That’s all right for mathematical sharps,” he
+said laughingly; “but I’m not in that class. The tree would fall on me,
+or I’d drown, or the bull would toss me over the fence, long before I
+could cipher out what the chances were.”
+
+“Pays, all the same, to try,” the Shark insisted.
+
+Varley glanced a little inquiringly at Sam. As has been explained, he
+was older than the club’s members, and more versed in the ways of the
+world; and now he had an intuition that the boys, while satisfied with
+their club’s title, were not eager to discuss it with a comparative
+stranger. He looked at Sam, but Sam said nothing.
+
+The visitor buttoned his overcoat. “Guess I’ll be running along,” he
+remarked. “Mighty glad to have had a look at your den.”
+
+“We’re glad you like it,” said Sam, reminded of his manners.
+
+Varley moved toward the door. He was quite aware that nobody had asked
+him to call again, and for the first time since his arrival began to
+feel a trifle of embarrassment.
+
+“Fine place--bully!” he said. “I--er--er--I don’t suppose anybody is
+going my way?”
+
+Now, there was something in the other’s manner which brought a sudden
+change in the plans of Sam Parker. Maybe his instinct of hospitality
+stirred; he might at least escort this unbidden guest whom he had
+failed to welcome warmly.
+
+“Guess I’ll trot along, too.” He caught up his cap and overcoat, put
+them on, and slipped into his overshoes. “Ready, when you are,” he
+added.
+
+Varley said, “Well, so long, you fellows!” and said it jauntily; but
+he was silent while he walked away from the club-house with Sam. The
+latter also seemed to be tongue-tied. Indeed, the pause threatened to
+become awkward for both of them, when Varley, with an effort, ended it.
+
+“Great winters you have up here!” he said jerkily. “Must be no end of
+sport, when you get the hang of things. Can’t say I’ve quite done that
+yet.”
+
+“You’ll get it quickly enough,” Sam assured him.
+
+“Hope so,” said Varley. “I’d like----” he broke off abruptly. “Hear
+that? What’s happening up the street?”
+
+Sam didn’t answer. Indeed, he had no need to do so. Like Varley, he
+had heard the sharp “honk, honk!” of an automobile horn rising above
+the jingle of sleigh-bells, and then a woman’s shriek of alarm, and
+the quick beat of hoofs on the icy roadway. A horse, drawing a light
+cutter, had taken fright at a passing motor car, had got out of control
+of the woman who held the reins, and was making a frantic bolt.
+Turning, the boys had a glimpse of a wiry bay, neck outstretched, ears
+back, red nostrils distended; of a sleigh swaying wildly; of a woman
+tugging vainly at the reins.
+
+“Runaway!” gasped Varley. Then he did the instinctive thing, and the
+plucky thing. The horse was very near, and coming fast. Varley sprang
+into the street. Promptly as he acted, though, there was a second
+in which his eyes were on Sam; and in that instant he had a queer
+impression that his companion was about to do as he was doing. But Sam
+suddenly appeared to change his plan, for he wheeled, and ran down the
+street, approaching the track of the runaway, not directly but on a
+long diagonal.
+
+There flashed on Varley an ugly doubt of Sam’s courage. Then for a
+little he forgot everything but the galloping horse, and the part he
+meant to play in stopping the maddened animal. He leaped over the piled
+up snow lining the sidewalk, and gave a great bound for the horse’s
+head. He was not reckoning risk, or chances--or conditions, for that
+matter. It had not occurred to him that just at this point the frozen
+road, with its thin, greasy coating was extraordinarily slippery
+and treacherous under foot. He hardly realized what was happening,
+when, as he was about to grasp the bridle, his feet shot from under
+him. The shoulder of the runaway struck him. Luckily, it was only a
+glancing blow, but it sent him reeling back, out of danger of contact
+with plunging hoofs or lunging sleigh. Down he went in a heap, sorely
+shaken and with the breath half driven from his body; and there he lay,
+recovering his wits and his wind, while he watched Sam, twenty yards
+away, score success where he had failed.
+
+Sam sprang much as Varley had sprung; but he caught the reins close
+to the bit, and was not shaken off. Not that he was able to check
+the runaway’s career at once--as a matter of fact, he was dragged a
+considerable distance. He forced the horse, though, out of the beaten
+track and into the deeper snow, and little by little he reduced the
+speed. The animal struggled hard, but Sam kept his hold. Two or
+three men came running up; and in a moment more the horse was at a
+standstill, trembling like a leaf, but again under control; his driver
+had been assisted from the sleigh, and was thanking Sam so warmly
+for his timely help that the boy, blushing hotly, was glad to beat a
+retreat and return to Varley, who by this time had picked himself up,
+and was brushing the snow from his overcoat.
+
+“Great Scott! but that was a star job of yours!” was his greeting.
+
+“Oh, it was just luck,” Sam answered modestly.
+
+“Luck?”
+
+“Yes; luck to find better footing than you had.”
+
+Varley gave a queer little groan. “Thunder! I didn’t think about that.”
+
+“Well, right here’s one of the smoothest places you can find anywhere;
+you need spiked shoes to stand on it. Farther on, though, it is
+rougher--rough enough to give you half a show, anyway. I saw how it was
+and ran along a bit. If you’d thought to do that, you’d have been all
+right. You made just as good a try as I did.”
+
+Varley glanced at the other keenly. “Look here! First off, you were
+starting straight out just as I did. Then you stopped, and changed your
+scheme. You had the real hunch. I was stood on my head, and you got
+away with things. And all the difference was, you took time to think.”
+
+“I tried to,” said Sam quietly.
+
+“It was a clever plan. But I say!” Varley paused an instant, his
+expression half admiring, half uncertain. “Come now! You talk about
+belonging to a Safety First Club, yet you pile in in a case like
+this----”
+
+Sam interrupted him. “Our kind of Safety First doesn’t mean wrapping
+yourself up in cotton wool and stowing yourself away on a shelf. It
+doesn’t mean dodging all risks--you’ve got to take some. But it does
+mean finding the best way to take them, if they seem to be necessary,
+and cutting them out, if they’re not necessary. That’s all there is to
+it.”
+
+Varley finished his task of brushing the snow from his coat. He
+straightened himself, and looked at Sam.
+
+“Somehow or other, Parker, it strikes me there’s a lot to be said for
+that notion of yours,” he remarked with conviction.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III UNCOMFORTABLE GLORY
+
+
+Sam Parker was disposed to think little and say less of the incident of
+the runaway horse. He had come out of the affair with some credit and a
+slightly sprained wrist, but he made no mention of either at home or at
+the Safety First Club. At school a somewhat vague report was circulated
+that there had been a frightened horse and a very good “stop”; but none
+of the pupils happened to have been about at the time of Sam’s exploit,
+and the story went the rounds without bringing in his name. Sam was
+quite content with this; and as he did not see Paul Varley for several
+days, he regarded the episode as a closed chapter.
+
+Meanwhile he was working hard at his books. He stood well in his
+classes, though he headed none of them; and he had an incentive for
+study.
+
+Sam expected to spend the last year of his preparation for college
+at St. Mark’s, a famous school for boys. He was to go there in the
+autumn, after completing the third year of his course at the town high
+school; and inasmuch as his father’s consent to this arrangement had
+not been easily won, he prized it all the more highly. It had been
+granted, indeed, only after a series of adventures had satisfied Mr.
+Parker that his son was possessed of certain valuable qualities of
+self-reliance and discretion. Sam, reasonably, was greatly pleased with
+the outcome, and his satisfaction was increased by the fact that both
+Step and Poke were to be sent to St. Mark’s with him, while it was by
+no means impossible that one or two others of the club might join the
+colony. He looked forward eagerly to his year at the big school, but
+with a sensible understanding that good scholarship would be much to
+his advantage.
+
+Sam lacked the mathematical talent of the Shark, just as he had no
+such peculiar knack as Step showed in Greek. The tall youth shone in
+translations from the tongue of Xenophon and Homer in a manner which
+was wholly inexplicable to his friends--as they frequently remarked
+with much feeling. In Latin Step was a mediocre performer; his French
+left much to be desired, but when it came to Greek--“Why, he eats
+it alive!” was Poke’s admiring declaration. Sam, being without such
+special genius, found none of his studies very easy--and, no doubt,
+profited the more in mental drill because he had to work for what he
+gained. His class rank was good, if not distinguished; and he stood
+well with the school principal and the other instructors, who saw that
+he was an influential fellow among his mates, including many who were
+not of the charmed circle of the club.
+
+Trudging to school one morning--it was several days after the affair
+of the runaway--Sam fell in with Poke, who appeared to be in a curious
+mood. Ordinarily, Poke was a cheery soul, and good-natured, but this
+day gloom was upon him. He answered Sam’s hail with something very
+like a growl; and when they fell into step, he groaned unmistakably as
+response to the other’s remark that it “wasn’t such a bad morning.”
+
+Sam looked at him wonderingly.
+
+“What’s the row?” he asked.
+
+Poke dug his hands deeper into his pockets, and sank his chin in his
+coat-collar.
+
+“Oh, nothing!” He said it as dismally as if everything had gone wrong.
+
+“Don’t you feel well?”
+
+“Well enough--that isn’t it.”
+
+“But what is, then?”
+
+Poke hesitated; he seemed to be struggling between eagerness and
+reluctance.
+
+“I--I--well, something’s going to happen.”
+
+“What?” Sam demanded.
+
+“Just wish I knew!” cried Poke fervently.
+
+Sam took him by the shoulder, and shook him vigorously.
+
+“Wake up, Poke! You’re dreaming.”
+
+Oddly enough, Poke caught at the suggestion.
+
+“It was a dream, all right, but it wasn’t a common dream. I tell you,
+it was a--er--er--it must have been a warning!”
+
+“What sort of warning?”
+
+Poke wagged his head heavily. “My! but I wish to-day was safely over!”
+he said ominously.
+
+Sam laughed. It was a skeptical laugh, but it had a trace of
+uneasiness.
+
+“Go on! You’re joking!”
+
+Poke heaved a tremendous sigh. “Well, I guess you wouldn’t be talking
+about joking if you’d had that dream yourself!”
+
+“What was it about?”
+
+“Everything--all mixed up! Course I can’t remember it all--you never
+can. But we were in it--all the fellows in the club were. And the
+way it went--Geeminy! first thing I knew I was sitting up in bed and
+yelling like an Indian. And I couldn’t get to sleep again, and the
+thing has been hanging over me ever since. It won’t go away. That’s why
+I feel in my bones that something is going to happen, and why I wish
+this day were over. Why, Sam, that was the meanest dream, the scariest
+dream--the--the----”
+
+Poke broke off; for round a corner came the Shark and Step Jones. And,
+of a sudden, it had occurred to the seer of visions that the Shark was
+the last person of his acquaintance who was likely to show sympathy for
+such a tale. But the newcomers had caught part of his speech.
+
+“What you driving at, Poke?” Step inquired. “Talking about dreams,
+weren’t you? Go ahead!”
+
+“Oh, it’s nothing of any importance,” said Poke hastily.
+
+“Huh! Seemed to be important enough a minute ago,” Step remarked. “What
+was the yarn, Sam?”
+
+Poke preferred to do his own explaining, if explanation there had to be.
+
+“I was telling Sam a story--yes; a story about a dream I had last
+night. And--well, I was telling him, too, that it worried me. It wasn’t
+a common dream--not by a long shot! And--and if you’ve got to have
+the whole thing, it is worrying me a lot! There’s trouble brewing for
+somebody, a heap of trouble.”
+
+Step regarded Poke with wide-opened eyes and sagging jaw, but the
+Shark’s lip curled scornfully.
+
+“Nonsense!” he jeered.
+
+“I tell you, it was a warning!” Poke insisted.
+
+“Warning of what?”
+
+“Why--why, I don’t know; that’s just the trouble.”
+
+The Shark was regarding the prophet of evil very steadily. “Poke,” said
+he, “what did you eat last night before you went to bed?”
+
+“Noth--that is, nothing to speak of.”
+
+“Let’s hear about it, all the same.”
+
+Poke wriggled, but the Shark’s eye held him. “Well, I was sort of
+hungry, so I went out to the pantry, and had a nibble.”
+
+“At what?”
+
+“Oh, anything I came across. But it was just a bite.”
+
+“How many bites?”
+
+“Oh, a few, I suppose. It was only a snack.”
+
+“Crackers?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Cake?”
+
+Poke reddened. “’Twa’n’t cake--it was a piece of pie, if you’ve got to
+know. But I don’t see----”
+
+The Shark gave a queer, barking laugh. “Ho, ho! Pie, eh? Mince pie,
+I’ll bet you!”
+
+Poke tried to assume an air of offended dignity. “Well, it was mince,
+if that’s any comfort to you.”
+
+“Ate a whole pie, didn’t you?”
+
+“No, sir!” shouted Poke indignantly. “It had been cut.”
+
+The Shark turned to the other boys. “Oh, come along!” said he. “Guess
+we’ve treed the ghost that sat on the foot-rail of Poke’s bed and made
+faces at him. We’ll be late at school if we don’t wake up.”
+
+Sam and Step moved on with the Shark, Poke following dejectedly.
+
+“All right--have it your own way!” he called after them. “You don’t
+have to believe anything’s going to happen, but you just wait and see!
+I tell you, this day is going to be a bad one for somebody!”
+
+It cannot be said that either Sam or Step attached much more importance
+than did the Shark to Poke’s forebodings; and the morning’s work
+proceeded in a manner to remove all traces of uneasiness. Things went
+well for all the members of the club. None of them was tardy. Lessons
+appeared to be well learned, and teachers were in good humor. Even Poke
+himself shone in recitation, though he droned through his translations
+in mournful fashion, and declined to be consoled by approving words
+from the instructors.
+
+At the opening of the Junior class’s English period the principal of
+the school entered the room, and after a whispered word or two with the
+teacher took the platform.
+
+“I have an announcement to make,” he said. “I have chosen this time and
+place because it deals with something more or less directly connected
+with the work of this class in English. And to go straight to the
+point, the announcement deals with a very desirable prize, to be
+awarded in a competition open to all of you, and in which I hope many
+of you will take part.”
+
+A rustle ran through the assembled class. Everybody was interested,
+with the exception of the despondent Poke, who merely slumped a little
+lower in his seat.
+
+The principal cleared his throat, and went on. A friend of the school,
+who was engaged in local historical research, was ready to pay one
+hundred dollars to the pupil who should produce the best essay on the
+settlement and early days of the town. Industry in the collection of
+facts would be given quite as much consideration as the style and
+finish of the essays.
+
+“In short,” the principal added, “the conditions will be such that
+all of you will find this a fair field of rivalry. It is not the
+intention to limit any contestant rigidly in the matter of space;
+though I must warn you that waste of words will count adversely. You
+can have room for all the facts you gather, but this means room for
+concise statement. The contest will close on the first of April, when
+the essays must be handed in; and the winner will be announced as soon
+thereafter as possible. A detailed statement of the conditions of the
+competition will be posted at once on the bulletin-board.”
+
+Then the principal walked out of the room, and the class broke
+discipline for a little to discuss this great news in eager whispers.
+A hundred-dollar prize for a composition! That was the way most of
+them put the matter. And a hundred dollars seemed to be most inviting.
+Besides, there was hardly a boy or girl there who didn’t feel convinced
+that in some old aunt or uncle, or, better yet, grandfather or
+grandmother, was possible source of just the information that would
+win the competition. And style and finish were not to determine the
+result--there was a condition much to the general liking; this wasn’t
+to be a contest practically limited to the half dozen Juniors with a
+known knack for writing. Even the Shark wagged his head approvingly,
+though he had no notion of entering the lists, white paper used for
+composition instead of figuring being more or less wasted, to his way
+of thinking. Only Poke remained indifferent, and sunk in gloom.
+
+The teacher, presently, called the class to order, and the recitation
+proceeded. At its close came recess, and the Juniors, flocking into the
+corridors and out to the school yard, fell to discussing the contest
+in all its bearings. Sam and his chums happened to be standing near
+the foot of the stairs when the principal came down from his office on
+the second floor, accompanied by a youth at whom the boys stared in
+surprise. For the youth was Paul Varley.
+
+Paul stopped to speak to the boys, and the principal checked his pace,
+as if waiting for the visitor to have his little talk with the others.
+
+“Maybe I’ll be with you fellows,” Varley said. “Some things I want to
+brush up on. I’ve been going over the business with Mr. Curtis”--he
+glanced at the principal--“and he thinks he can fix it for me.”
+
+“But we’re Juniors, and you’ll be a Senior,” Sam remarked.
+
+“No; more of an unclassified special student. I’ve had a pretty
+‘spotty’ preparation, you know; and it struck me it would be a good
+thing to look after some of the weak spots while I’m here. So I made up
+my mind to---- I beg your pardon, madam!”
+
+Varley, as it chanced, was the only one of the group who was facing the
+entrance. This fact accounted for his sudden change of tone.
+
+A woman had come into the hall. She was a comfortable, middle-aged,
+plump person, whose hat was a trifle awry, and whose manner indicated
+much earnestness.
+
+None of the others had seen her come in, and none suspected her
+presence till Varley spoke. Then everybody turned quickly.
+
+“I’m looking for somebody,” said the woman briskly. “I guess he’s
+somewhere round this school. Only--only I ain’t quite as sure as I
+ought to be. And--and----” she hesitated, peering at the faces before
+her. Compared with the light out-of-doors, the hall was somewhat dim.
+“No, I don’t know whether he’s here or not,” she concluded.
+
+“And his name----?” It was Varley who put the question; for Sam and his
+friends appeared to be tongue-tied, while the principal chanced to be
+in the background.
+
+“Mercy me, but I don’t know! That’s the trouble--they didn’t seem to
+know, either, any of them--the men, I mean.”
+
+“Ah!” said Varley courteously, but uncertainly.
+
+The principal stepped forward. “I’m afraid we don’t understand, madam,”
+said he. “If you’ll kindly explain----”
+
+The visitor laughed. “Dear me, but somehow I always do manage to get
+the cart before the horse! But the men, they said they thought----
+Wait a minute, though!” She moved nearer Varley, and studied his face
+intently. “Wait a minute! I vow, but this one looks like the fellow.
+Yes; he’s the one.... No, he isn’t, either. He’s the boy that tried,
+and went rolling head over heels.”
+
+Varley gave a sudden laugh. “I get it! You’re talking about the
+runaway. And you’re right--I was the fellow who took the tumble.”
+
+“The runaway?” Two or three of the boys spoke in chorus, wonderingly.
+Sam Parker instinctively began to edge away. The movement caught the
+woman’s attention. A sharp glance at Sam, and her expression brightened.
+
+“Here he is, sure enough!” she cried. “He didn’t tumble, and he held
+on like grim death till the colt stopped, and the men came running up
+to help. And then he slipped off before I could get my breath or my
+manners back enough to say ‘Thank you!’ But I’m going to say it now,
+and say it out loud!”
+
+With that, she briskly pursued the retreating Sam, overhauled him,
+and cast an affectionate arm about his shoulders. Then, holding him
+prisoner, she addressed all within hearing.
+
+“I don’t know what you’ve heard or haven’t heard about this, and I
+don’t care. I’m going to give my testimony. This boy”--she gave Sam
+a vigorous hug--“this boy did a brave thing. He took the chance of
+breaking his neck, when my colt was frightened by one of those pesky
+automobiles and made a bolt. This boy”--another hug--“stopped him, and
+saved me from being killed, or getting an awful spill. And I’ve come
+here to look him up, and thank him good and proper--so there!”
+
+Now, to tell the truth, Sam at the moment looked anything but a hero;
+for he was wriggling and struggling vainly, and blushing furiously
+and unhappily. So public and so demonstrative a display of gratitude
+overwhelmed him.
+
+“I--I--oh, ’twasn’t anything,” he stammered.
+
+“I tell you, it was a whole lot to me!” declared the woman. “And I’ve
+been racking my brains how to show how I feel about it.” Again her arm
+tightened, and for a panic-stricken second Sam thought she was about
+to kiss him then and there, and in the presence of the crowd. He made
+a frantic effort for freedom, and his captress, who may have had some
+notion of boyish diffidence, released him, her eyes twinkling.
+
+Sam would have given much for the privilege of instant flight; but
+luckily kept his wits and held his ground. To run away would be merely
+to add fuel to the fire of ridicule to which he believed his mates
+would subject him. So he tarried, and miserably attempted to smile,
+thereby deceiving nobody, and least of all the visitor.
+
+With a degree of tact she turned to the principal.
+
+“You’re Mr. Curtis, aren’t you? I thought that was your name. Mine’s
+Grant--Mrs. John Grant. I live over in Sugar Valley. I guess that’ll do
+for introductions, though you might as well tell me this boy’s name, if
+you please.”
+
+“Samuel Parker,” said Mr. Curtis.
+
+“I won’t forget it, or what its owner did for me. I’ve tried to thank
+him, but I ain’t sure that I’ve exactly tickled him in doing it.” She
+smiled whimsically, and Sam, in spite of himself, winced. “But what I
+hope he’ll understand, and all of you will understand, is that I’m his
+friend for life. I’d like to do something to show how I feel about it.
+And I will do something!” Suddenly she wheeled to face Sam. “Come now!
+All boys I ever heard of liked good things to eat. It may strike you
+as not amounting to much, but I’ll send you one of my mince pies----”
+
+“Oh, but you mustn’t!” Sam protested. “It--it’ll be too much trouble.”
+
+Mrs. Grant paid scant heed to the objection. “I guess you don’t know
+the kind of pie I mean. There’s pies and pies, young man. And you won’t
+forget the one I send you.”
+
+Poor Sam feared that this was likely to prove a very mild statement.
+Forget? Would that he could forget the whole affair, or better yet,
+that his chums might forget this most embarrassing episode! But while
+he grinned feebly, and strove to contrive a fitting speech, Mrs. Grant
+came to his rescue by bidding everybody a cheery farewell and taking
+herself off, apparently well pleased with the results of her visit to
+the school.
+
+“Well, I feel like old Columbus when he sighted America--he’d come a
+long way to find something, and he’d found it. And ’tis quite a drive
+in from Sugar Valley, but ’twas worth the trouble. I’ve found out
+things. So it’s a good day’s work for me--and, Master Parker, I’ll try
+to make it a good day for you, too. You’ll hear from me again and--no;
+you wait and see what’ll happen. So good-bye, everybody, good-bye!”
+
+Out of the door and down the steps she went, smiling broadly, while
+behind her silence reigned for seconds. All eyes were on Sam, as he
+was most miserably aware. Other pupils had come up in time to hear her
+closing remarks, and there was quite a little crowd in the corridor,
+including some of the girls.
+
+One of the latter ended the silence. She tittered nervously rather than
+mischievously. There was a ripple of laughter; then some of the boys
+set up a shout in the very presence of the principal.
+
+Poor Sam would have blessed his stars had a trap-door opened beneath
+his feet and permitted him to drop out of sight. But the stout floor
+remained intact. The principal raised a warning hand, and shook his
+head at some of those who were giving way to mirth; but Sam did not
+wait for order to be restored. He turned, and blindly forcing a way
+through the press, retreated as best he might, but in most unheroic
+fashion. He had not been afraid of a runaway horse, but with all
+a boy’s diffidence he dreaded the sort of celebrity his exploit
+unexpectedly had brought him.
+
+On the outskirts of the group Poke tugged at the Shark’s sleeve.
+
+“There now! What did I tell you?” he demanded.
+
+The Shark peered through his glasses at his friend. Poke was no longer
+gloomy. He was grinning with a queer effect of utter complacency.
+
+“One time or another you’ve told me a lot of idiotic things,” growled
+the Shark. “Which particular one do you mean now?”
+
+“That warning--warning of trouble for somebody.”
+
+“Rats!”
+
+Poke wagged his head. “Look here, Shark! I said it, and you heard me
+say it. I told you I was sure a heap of trouble was coming to somebody.
+Well, it came! Old Sam caught it. I wouldn’t have been in his shoes
+just now for--for--for I don’t know what. Neither would you. So the
+warning made good!”
+
+The Shark rubbed his chin with an unusual manner of doubt.
+“Why--why--well, it was fierce for Sam. But I--I’d hate to admit----”
+
+“Course you would!” Poke interrupted. “You’re prejudiced. You don’t
+believe in anything unless you can put it in figures.”
+
+The taunt swept away the Shark’s indecision. “Warning--nothing!” he
+snapped. “Too much mince pie, that’s all!”
+
+Poke’s grin was triumphant. “All right! Call it too much mince pie, if
+you want to. But wait till Sam gets that pie that’s promised him, and
+the crowd hears about it! Then I guess you’ll think I was right all
+through.”
+
+“Huh!” grunted the Shark skeptically.
+
+Poke laughed aloud. “Ho, ho, ho! I don’t beat you often, Shark, but
+when I do, I beat you all to pieces. Talk about mince pie, if you want
+to. I’ll talk about it, too, and when we get through, we’ll see who
+hits nearer the truth. Just you wait and see, and----”
+
+But the Shark was moving away. For once, at least, he found it
+impossible to maintain argument against Poke, the unmathematical
+philosopher and seer of strange visions.
+
+Sam’s good deed had brought him most embarrassing reward. Of this the
+Shark was quite as convinced as Poke could be, or Sam himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV SAM’S COUNSELLOR
+
+
+Sam took the matter of Mrs. Grant’s gratitude and the promised pie much
+to heart. He was, as it happened, a sensitive fellow, and he was of
+the age at which dread of ridicule is perhaps keenest. So he readily
+imagined that the whole school was laughing at him and the picture he
+must have presented with Mrs. Grant’s stout arm about his shoulders;
+and made himself miserable by suspicion of amusement in every glance he
+caught and of personal application in every laugh he heard.
+
+He had been reasonably satisfied with the manner in which he had
+stopped the runaway, and might not have objected to a certain amount
+of publicity, provided it could have come in the right way. If some
+man, who had been a witness of the affair, should have met him on the
+street, and clapped him on the shoulder, and growled “Clever job you
+did, youngster!” or “Good work, son!”--why, that would have been all
+right, and quite in accord with his idea of the proprieties. But to be
+hugged and patted, and promised a pie, with his club-mates and others
+looking on, to say nothing of the principal--truly, Sam felt that his
+was a hard and undeserved fate.
+
+His behavior was somewhat like that of most stricken creatures; that
+is, he sought solitude. He shunned the club. From school he went
+straight home, and there, curled up in a corner of the library, read or
+studied industriously. Even to his father and mother he said little,
+and to neither did he confide a syllable of his unhappy experience.
+This sort of thing went on for two or three days, with the natural
+result that by much brooding upon his troubles he magnified them out of
+all proportion, and made himself so genuinely miserable that, at last,
+he was driven in desperation to seek diversion. He tried to find it at
+the club, and again his luck was bad.
+
+Trojan Walker had the gift of mimicry, and Herman Boyd liked to devise
+little dramatic scenes. Sam walked in upon the assembled club, just in
+time to behold the Trojan, with a shawl wrapped about him to increase
+his resemblance to Mrs. Grant, presenting a lump of dough on a toy
+pie-plate to Herman, to the extreme delectation of the spectators. Step
+and Poke were roaring with laughter, and even the solemn Shark was
+chuckling.
+
+“Heroic youth, accept this slight trifle as a testimonial of my deep
+and undying gratitude and affection,” the Trojan was reciting. “You
+risked your life to save me, and now you can risk it again. This is no
+common pie. It’s a--a--a----”
+
+There the Trojan hesitated, stammered, paused. He had caught sight of
+Sam, standing in the doorway; and something in the other’s face warned
+him that he was on dangerous ground.
+
+Oddly enough, it was the Shark who broke the silence, which for a
+moment held the group.
+
+“Come in and shut the door, Sam,” he said curtly. “You’re making a
+draught.”
+
+But Sam neither closed the door nor advanced into the room. Instead,
+he held his position, glancing from one to another of his chums. Poke
+laughed nervously; Step fell to rubbing his jaw with a quaint air of
+perplexity. The Trojan and Herman instinctively fell back a pace, as if
+expecting attack. Sam’s face was white, but his eyes were blazing.
+
+There was another pause, which seemed very long to all the boys,
+watching the newcomer, and perceiving more or less clearly that he was
+having a hard fight to keep his self-control. Then, of a sudden, Sam
+turned on his heel, and strode out, slamming the door behind him, and
+leaving a party no longer in a mood for private theatricals.
+
+The Trojan cast his shawl into a corner; Herman dropped weakly into a
+chair. Poke, staring at the door beyond which Sam had vanished, spoke
+for all of them.
+
+“Gee--minee!” he quavered. “But who’d ’a’ thought he’d take it as hard
+as all that?”
+
+Meanwhile Sam was hurrying along the street. When he came to his
+father’s place, he turned in at the big gate, but instead of going to
+the house marched to the barn. There in a combined harness room and
+workshop he came upon Lon Gates, coachman, chauffeur, gardener and
+general factotum of the Parker household, and also often counsellor and
+sometimes consoler of its youngest member.
+
+A glance showed Lon that Sam was flying storm signals. Out of the
+corner of an eye he watched the boy, who had dropped upon a bench near
+the little stove. A full minute passed before either spoke.
+
+“Well?” Lon drawled, finally.
+
+Sam made no reply, but stared industriously at his shoes.
+
+Lon went on with his work--he was repairing a harness. He fitted a new
+buckle in place of an old one; tested it; glanced again at his young
+friend.
+
+“I dunno, Sam, but you’d feel better if you got it out of your system,”
+he remarked leisurely.
+
+No response from the youth on the bench.
+
+Lon continued his task for a time. Then he began to whistle. Sam
+stirred uneasily.
+
+“What’s the matter? Out o’ tune, am I?” Lon inquired.
+
+“Way out!” snapped the boy.
+
+Then Lon laughed. “Ha, ha! Must ’a’ ketched it off you, son. What’s the
+trouble, anyhow?”
+
+“Noth--nothing.”
+
+“All right--tell me about it.”
+
+Sam raised his head. “Oh, it’s nothing--nothing to talk about, that is.”
+
+“Well,” said Lon meditatively, “it pays to experiment now and then.
+You never can tell ’bout some things. And there is sort of a relief,
+somehow, in usin’ the human voice--kinder safety-valve effect. And it
+looks to me as if you’d been bottlin’ up steam long enough.... T’other
+boys been rilin’ you, did you say?”
+
+“Yes--but I didn’t say so.”
+
+Lon waved a hand. “Well, now you’re started, go ahead. I’m listenin’.”
+
+Sam hesitated. “It--it’s a long story.”
+
+“What’s the odds? It’s a long time before we have to knock off for
+supper.”
+
+“Oh, I couldn’t tell you everything.”
+
+“Couldn’t, eh? That club o’ yourn in it?”
+
+“Hang the club!” cried Sam hotly. “I’ll never go there again!”
+
+Lon shook his head. “All right, maybe, only--only what do you fellers
+call yourselves? Beats all how I forget names!”
+
+“It’s the Safety First Club.”
+
+“Why, so it is! And ‘Safety First’--that’s your motto, ain’t it? Good
+’un, at that! It’ll keep you out of lots of mix-ups by makin’ you stop
+to think twice before you do things or say things you’ll be sorry for.”
+
+The red crept into Sam’s face. “Oh, well, Lon,” he said, “maybe I’ll go
+there again some time. But I wouldn’t now--you couldn’t hire me to. The
+way that crowd treated me----”
+
+“Hold on! All the crowd?”
+
+Sam reflected briefly. “Orkney wasn’t there,” he admitted. “But he’d
+have been as bad as the rest.”
+
+“Don’t be too sure of that,” Lon advised. “That Orkney boy thinks a
+heap of you, Sam--all the more, likely’s not, ’cause you’re kinder an
+acquired taste with him. Mind how you two started to scrap, and how you
+misjudged each other, and how he ran away, and how you was mighty glad
+to have a hand in bringin’ him back? And----”
+
+Sam stopped him. “Lon, that’s all true. But that’s another story. This
+one’s about me, and I--well, I’m the goat. And for that crowd to keep
+bringing up to me how that woman grabbed me, and told me she’d give me
+a mince pie--but say! I didn’t mean to tell you.”
+
+“I know you didn’t,” said Lon calmly. “But now you might as well go
+ahead, and fill in the blanks in the yarn.”
+
+Sam drew a long breath. It would be a relief to have a confidant, and
+he trusted Lon’s discretion.
+
+“Well, I’ll tell you--tell you the whole thing,” he said, and plunged
+into the narrative, beginning with his dash for the head of Mrs.
+Grant’s runaway horse, and continuing through the scene at the school
+and the interrupted performance at the Safety First Club.
+
+Lon listened with admirable gravity. He understood perfectly Sam’s
+frame of mind.
+
+“Jesso, jesso!” he remarked sagely, when the tale was told. “Riled you
+all up, Sam, didn’t it? But I dunno’s there’s anything real fatal about
+it. The Grants are mighty nice folks--I know ’em. Fine place they’ve
+got over to Sugar Valley, too. And Mis’ Grant--she meant all right,
+only she didn’t realize, mebbe, that a boy’s more or less like a rabbit
+when it comes to public pettin’, and behaves accordin’. So, if you’d
+cut and run----”
+
+“I couldn’t,” Sam explained hotly.
+
+“Good thing you couldn’t. Same way when Mis’ Grant makes good with that
+mince pie----”
+
+There Sam’s wrath exploded. He raged for a moment or two, Lon listening
+patiently.
+
+“Well, it’ll be some mince pie,” he said at last, when the boy had
+paused for lack of breath. “If I was you, I wouldn’t be declinin’ it
+ahead o’ time and sight unseen. You can never tell, you know, how the
+thing may strike you when it happens. Maybe you’ll be hungry, and maybe
+you’ll feel like treatin’ that club of yours----”
+
+“No--no, siree! I’m through with ’em!” Sam managed to gasp.
+
+“Umph! Not flocking with ’em much, eh?”
+
+“You bet not! Not after the way they ragged me!”
+
+Lon meditated briefly. “Sam,” he said, “you’re an amazin’ human
+critter. Fust and last, you have got a power o’ human ways about you.
+And I reckon most every human with any spunk one time or another makes
+up his mind the whole world’s against him, and starts in to fight it.
+So he tries to kick the world ’round for a while, and likely’s not
+keeps it up until he notices that he’s stubbed his toe and the world
+ain’t takin’ any interest to speak of.”
+
+“Huh!”
+
+Lon chuckled softly. “Te he! Say! Wonder if I ever told you about old
+Brodman.”
+
+There was a little pause. Then Sam said, “Guess not.” He spoke half
+curiously, half unwillingly.
+
+“Well, old Brodman was a pretty decent citizen--all right in his way.
+But he was jest as human as you, Sam. So it happened once he got to
+figgerin’ that the town was down on him and treatin’ him mean. ‘I’ll
+get even with ’em,’ he says to himself; ‘I’ll have nothin’ to do with
+’em.’ So off he goes, and flocks all by himself for a good, long spell.
+At last, though, it gets sorter tiresome, and back he trots, and runs
+smack into one of his old neighbors. ‘Hello!’ says the neighbor,
+casual like. ‘How do you do?’ says old Brodman, all dignified. The
+neighbor yawns and looks at the sky. ‘Kinder threatenin’ rain, ain’t
+it?’ says he. Old Brodman glares at him. ‘Look here!’ says he, ‘don’t
+you and all the rest of the town know I’ve been away? Hain’t ye missed
+me?’ ‘Wal, I wouldn’t exactly call it “missed,”’ says the neighbor.
+‘You see, Brodman, ’most everybody thought you was in jail.’”
+
+Sam sprang to his feet. He crossed the room to a window, through which
+he stared industriously.
+
+“If you’d like to have the moral o’ that story,” Lon went on, “it’s
+that one human can’t buck all the rest. The odds are too big. What’s a
+ton to him ain’t a featherweight to the world. And applyin’ that moral
+to a case nearer home, I’d say you’d better make up your mind to go
+back to your crowd, and grin and bear it. And the more you grin, the
+less you’ll have to bear.”
+
+[Illustration: “GRIN AND BEAR IT”]
+
+“I won’t do it.”
+
+“Umph! Safety First! Ain’t that your motto?”
+
+“It doesn’t apply here.”
+
+“’Deed it does! Don’t let your notions get twisted.”
+
+Sam continued to stare out of the window. “You’re asking too much, Lon.
+I can’t stand being a butt for a lot of fool jokes--I won’t stand it!”
+
+“What’ll you do? Turn hermit?”
+
+“Why--why, no.”
+
+Lon resumed his work. There was a long pause before he spoke.
+
+“Sam, you take my advice. You’ve been mopin’ around the place for
+two-three days. Get out and stretch your legs. Take a big tramp--a
+reg’lar hike. Wonderful what a lot of brain fog you can walk away from
+if you walk far enough.”
+
+Sam shook his head. “No fun in that. It’s beginning to snow, too.”
+
+“Well, go to-morrow, then. A fresh fall will make crackin’ good
+snow-shoein’.”
+
+“No fun going alone.”
+
+Lon grinned. “Son, I guess, after all, that story about old Brodman did
+sink in.”
+
+“Huh! Don’t think it’s much of a story,” Sam growled, and moved toward
+the door.
+
+“That depends,” Lon called after him. “A story’s like a crowbar--makes
+all the difference in the world whether you use it right or wrong.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V SNOW-SHOES
+
+
+The morning dawned clear and still. Over night there had been a fall of
+several inches of snow, freshening the white of the winter landscape.
+Even the roadways were not dingy now, while the fields were broad and
+smooth and shining expanses. Sam heard the call of out-of-doors, but
+hesitated to obey it. The day was his, to do with as he pleased, for
+it was Saturday, and there was no school session. But, somehow, the
+call was of the sort that one ought not to hear alone, being, indeed, a
+comradely, sociable call of good fellowship.
+
+To make the most of such a day one ought to be with one’s chums. Sam
+understood this perfectly--and stubbornly fought the understanding.
+Lon’s advice had not been wasted, though it had not persuaded Sam to
+seek the Safety First Club boys again.
+
+After all, his problem was not so simple as it might appear to be.
+In addition to the resentment felt by a sensitive fellow, something
+was involved which, for want of a better term, might be called “club
+politics.” Sam had been the leader of the crowd and of the club.
+Often his had been the deciding opinion, when his mates had failed
+to agree. It can hardly be said that he had consciously sought the
+leadership, but it could not be denied that he enjoyed it. And he was
+a sufficiently shrewd judge of boy nature--which is a good deal like
+human nature in general--to realize that a leader who is laughed at is
+not likely to retain his prestige. Besides, he had failed to take the
+easy way out of his trouble at the beginning. If he could have laughed
+with the others, and made a joke of his embarrassment, the whole affair
+might now be an old story; but the others having rocked with laughter,
+while he stood miserably silent, it was still a story the club found
+intensely diverting.
+
+Sam pressed his nose against the window-pane, and stared unhappily at
+the crisp, white snow. It was very inviting--but the idea of a lonely
+tramp did not appeal to him. And while he gazed disconsolately, Paul
+Varley came along the street, with a pair of snow-shoes under his arm.
+
+Sam regarded him hungrily. To tell the truth, Varley filled the eye.
+His gay-colored knitted cap was set jauntily on his head; a mackinaw
+jacket of striking pattern was buttoned about him, and leggins and
+moccasins added to the general effect of his apparel.
+
+Sam watched the city youth disappear up the street. Then, suddenly, he
+turned from the window. Inspiration had seized him.
+
+Varley undoubtedly would put on his snow-shoes when he reached the
+outskirts of the town, and strike out over the hills. If he kept near
+the main road, it would be possible for a pursuer to use a short-cut,
+and overhaul him without much difficulty. Just at the time, too,
+Varley was almost the only fellow with whom Sam felt that he could
+foregather without sacrifice of pride, for in the matter of the runaway
+Varley’s part had been sufficiently inglorious. So Sam made haste. He
+got himself into cap and coat, and laid hold of his snow-shoes, and
+departed by way of back streets and paths which lessened distance.
+Where the houses were few and far between, and there were long
+stretches of snow unmarked by runner or footprint, he adjusted his
+snow-shoes with practiced care, and headed up a little valley, marked
+here and there by clumps of trees. Traveling briskly, he soon reached
+the end of the valley, and climbed a low hill to his left. At its top
+ran the road Varley was likely to follow. So shrewdly had Sam made
+his calculations that, when he gained the summit, he saw the other
+approaching and hardly a hundred yards away.
+
+For a novice Varley was not doing badly. His speed, to be sure, was not
+great, and he floundered along a bit clumsily on his web-supports; but
+he took no tumbles while Sam waited for him to come up.
+
+“Hullo, Parker!” he called out, as he drew near. “Where did you drop
+from?”
+
+“Oh, I’m just taking a little breezer,” responded Sam carelessly.
+“Pretty good going, eh?”
+
+Varley laughed. “I guess it’s good; I don’t know. This is a new game
+for me.”
+
+Sam surveyed him from head to foot. “Well, you’re rigged for it,
+anyway.”
+
+“Oh, I outfitted at one of the big sporting-goods stores before I left
+the city. Sometimes I wonder if I didn’t rather overdo it.”
+
+“You’re all right,” said Sam shortly, if encouragingly. “Say! that’s a
+newfangled sandal you’ve got there.”
+
+Varley glanced at the leather foot-piece attached to the snow-shoe and
+into which his foot fitted snugly.
+
+“They told me it was the latest thing. Somehow, though, I’m not sure
+that it works as it ought to.”
+
+Down went Sam on his knee. He made close inspection; pulled
+experimentally at one of the sandals; shook his head.
+
+“Your left foot’s too far back--gives you no toe-hold. Want me to shift
+it?”
+
+“Wish you would!” said Varley heartily. With interest he watched Sam
+set to work deftly, loosening the thongs which bound the sandal to the
+web and then readjusting them and knotting them firmly.
+
+“There! Guess that’ll give the play you need,” said Sam, and stood up.
+
+Varley nodded. “Feels better, anyway. And I say! Mind, do you, if I
+trot along with you?”
+
+“Course not--come along!” Sam told him with real heartiness.
+
+Varley ran his glance over the miles of country visible from the little
+elevation on which they stood. The morning air was wonderfully clear,
+and the snow glittered bravely in the wintry sunshine.
+
+“Oh, but this is bully!” he exclaimed.
+
+“’Tis pretty good,” Sam admitted. “Look! Notice that peak sticking up
+to the north--way off--right on the sky-line? That’s old Pequaket--one
+of the big hills, you know. It’s all of seventy miles off--you can’t
+see it, except when things are right. And the little mountain to the
+south--that’s Rainbow. ’Tisn’t much of a mountain, at that, but somehow
+it manages to make quite a show. And there’s a hotel at the base of it.
+Nice place, too. Began by being a summer house, but now one wing’s kept
+open for folks who come up for winter sports.”
+
+Varley shaded his eyes with his hand. “How far away’s the little
+mountain--Rainbow, you called it, didn’t you?”
+
+“Oh, eight or nine miles.”
+
+Out went Varley’s arm. He pointed to a gap in a ridge to the right.
+
+“That’s a queer jog off there. What is it? Railroad cut?”
+
+“No; it’s the entrance to Sugar Valley.”
+
+“Ah,” said Varley politely, but without especial interest.
+
+Sam felt the blood rush to his face, but plunged ahead with the
+explanation he seemed to be bound to make. “The valley widens out a lot
+a little way in. And there are some fine sugar camps--that’s how the
+place gets its name.”
+
+“Sugar camps?” Varley repeated doubtfully.
+
+“Yes--for making maple sugar.”
+
+“Oh, maple sugar? I get you. I’d like to see ’em make it.”
+
+Sam could have hugged him. Plainly enough, Sugar Valley did not suggest
+Mrs. Grant and her manifestation of gratitude.
+
+“You’ll have plenty of chances. The season comes when the snow goes.
+Now let’s get along! Care where we go?”
+
+“Not a bit,” said Varley. “You lead.”
+
+It was rather incautious permission. Sam, elated by discovery of a
+companion who appeared to have lost sight of the runaway and its
+consequences, cheered by fellowship, and with the magic of the bracing
+air and the sunshine to set his blood coursing swiftly, set out at a
+pace which soon left Varley floundering far in the rear. Observing
+this, Sam halted for the other to overtake him, and went on more
+sedately, pausing now and then to give Varley a helpful hint. The city
+boy was an apt pupil. He learned quickly, but it was clear that his
+strength was not great. Sam, who was an observant fellow, slackened
+pace still more.
+
+With such a day, though, neither of the pair was likely to consider
+very seriously the distance covered. They went on and on, sometimes
+tramping over the unbroken snow beside the road, sometimes making
+detours across promising fields. Once or twice they invaded wooded
+tracts, but roots and branches proved too big a tax on Varley’s skill,
+and they promptly made for the open. They were in high spirits, the
+novice’s occasional tumbles seeming to be as entertaining to him as to
+his instructor.
+
+At last, as they halted on the top of a small hill, a sound came to
+their ears, a far-off sound, not loud but distinct, and often repeated.
+
+“What’s that?” Varley asked curiously.
+
+“Guess!” said Sam.
+
+The other listened intently. There’s no stillness more wonderful than
+that of a calm day when the snow lies deep on the ground, and the earth
+seems to be dozing comfortably under its white coverlet. Tap, tap,
+tap! came the distant sounds, breaking the silence with almost the
+regularity of the beat of a pendulum.
+
+“I--I can’t imagine what makes those sounds, but they’re--well, they’re
+clear-cut--if you can call it that.”
+
+“You’re guessing better than you knew,” quoth Sam. “Wood-chopper over
+in the woods yonder.”
+
+“You mean a lumberman?”
+
+“More likely some farm-hand getting out fire-wood.”
+
+“I’ve never seen a tree cut down--a big tree, that is.”
+
+Sam laughed. “Well, that chap probably isn’t leveling any forest
+monarch, but if you’d like to see him work, there’s no reason why you
+shouldn’t. Come ahead!”
+
+Off they set again, Sam leading. They crossed a valley at the foot
+of the hill, mounted a gradual slope on the farther side, climbed an
+old stone wall, and found themselves in a wood lot, fairly free of
+undergrowth. The sounds of the axe were much louder now. Sam, pointing,
+gave a shout.
+
+“See that treetop sway? We’ll be in time to see it come down!”
+
+They hurried forward. That is, Sam hurried and made progress. Varley,
+also making haste, caught a snow-shoe on a hidden obstruction, and took
+a magnificent header into a drift. He was struggling up in a second,
+powdered with snow from head to foot, with snow up his sleeves and down
+his neck, but grinning cheerily in spite of his mishap.
+
+Sam, glancing back, shouted again. Varley took a step forward. Then
+suddenly he cried out, sharply, warningly.
+
+The tree was no longer swaying back and forth. Instead, the tall trunk
+was falling like a great beam swinging on a pivot at its base. Its
+limbs tore through the boughs of its smaller neighbors, but above the
+noise of cracking and breaking wood rose a voice, shrill with alarm.
+
+It was all over with startling swiftness. Here was a case in which
+fractions of a second counted. The woodsman, stepping back when his
+final blow with the axe had been delivered, had heard Sam’s shout.
+For an instant his attention had been distracted; and in that fateful
+instant the course of the falling tree was diverted from its original
+direction. When the man became aware of his peril, the trunk was
+descending straight upon him. He tried to spring aside, but it was too
+late to escape. He was caught, hurled to the ground, and held there,
+with the tree trunk fairly across his body.
+
+Varley had had just a glimpse of what was occurring. It was because
+of this that he had cried out, instinctively trying to give warning,
+though he hardly realized the full danger to the man, of whom he first
+caught sight just before the tree struck him.
+
+Sam, who had not perceived how near they were to the chopper until
+Varley gave him a hint, needed but a glance to understand the sort of
+accident which had befallen. He dashed to the side of the prostrate
+workman, caught his arm, and tried to drag him from beneath the tree.
+The effort was in vain. The man groaned feebly, and opened his eyes.
+
+Varley, quivering with excitement, came up, and tugged uselessly at the
+tree trunk.
+
+“Can’t we lift this? Tell me what to do--anything! I can’t stir it--it
+must weigh tons!” he exclaimed.
+
+Sam was doing his best to think fast and clearly. The chopper, a big,
+powerful fellow though he was, could do nothing to help himself. Even
+had he suffered no injury he was so pinned down that he was held as if
+he were trapped. But for the deep cushion of snow he must have been
+terribly crushed; and even this had not served to save him from hurts
+which the boy believed to be serious enough.
+
+The man spoke faintly, brokenly: “Get--get somebody! Over on the
+road--there’ll be somebody drivin’ along.”
+
+Sam bent over him. “Where’s the nearest house?”
+
+“Too--too far. And only the women folks to home. Try the--the road!”
+
+“Where are you hurt--worst?”
+
+The man made a feeble attempt to raise his head. With an effort he
+suppressed a moan. Big drops of sweat were showing on his forehead.
+
+“Ribs--two-three cracked or--or caved in. Hur--hurry, can’t ye?”
+
+Varley caught Sam’s sleeve. “I’ll go! Best thing to do. I’m no good
+here, and you may be. All right?”
+
+Sam nodded. He did not see what service he could render by remaining;
+yet he was unwilling to desert the sufferer, and Varley could do as
+much as he could in summoning passers-by to the rescue.
+
+“Beat it, then!” he said crisply.
+
+Varley set off at the best pace he could make; and while Sam was
+studying the problem of first aid under difficulties, his new comrade
+was racing across the fields. Breathless from his exertions, he reached
+the highway just as two youths on snow-shoes came into sight around a
+bend. Varley recognized them as Poke and Step. They were not the aids
+he would have chosen in such an emergency, but this was not a time for
+delay.
+
+Step hailed him with amazement. “Hullo! What are you doing off here by
+your lonesome? Lost, are you?”
+
+“Come--come along!” Varley panted. “Both--both of you! Man hurt--over
+in the woods!”
+
+“But what are you----?”
+
+Varley didn’t let Step finish the question.
+
+“Hustle! It’s a--a bad job. Parker sent me----”
+
+“What! Sam Parker hurt?”
+
+Varley wrung his hands in impatience. “No, no! Tree fell on a fellow.
+Parker stayed with him, and sent me for help.”
+
+Step looked vastly relieved. “Oh, that’s it, eh? And Sam’s all right?
+And he’s staying with the other chap? Well, he knows what to do, if
+anybody knows.”
+
+So speaking, Step swung one of his long legs over the low wall, and
+followed it with the other.
+
+“Poke and I are just out for a breather--great going, eh? But if you’re
+after hustle, I’m your man. So’s Poke. Come along!”
+
+Varley turned, and headed for the woods, the others keeping close
+beside him.
+
+“If you’ve got wind enough, tell us just what happened,” Step suggested.
+
+Varley did his best to comply. It is to be feared, though, that his
+story was not very coherent. Indeed, he had given his companions little
+more than an outline of the story when they reached the timber.
+
+Sam had not been idle. He had scraped away a good deal of the snow
+about the injured man, and having found a stout pole, was experimenting
+with it as a lever, though he had not succeeded in raising the tree
+trunk by an inch.
+
+The victim of the accident was groaning faintly; but he pluckily
+gritted his teeth, when Step and Poke sprang to the lever, and hoisted
+with all their strength. Then Varley added his efforts. The tree rose
+very, very slowly.
+
+“Try to hold her where she is!” Sam told his comrades.
+
+Bending down, he caught the man by the shoulders, and with all possible
+care drew him from beneath the huge, imprisoning bar. The sufferer’s
+face was contorted with pain, but his grit didn’t fail him.
+
+“Goo--good work, boys!” he gasped.
+
+The three at the lever loosened their hold, and the tree settled back
+to its bed in the snow. Varley tore off his gay mackinaw. He was about
+to put it under the man’s head when Sam stopped him.
+
+“Hold on! You’ve given me a hint. We ought to get him out of here and
+under shelter. And we need a stretcher.... Don’t roll up that jacket.
+Button it, though, and see that the sleeves are clear.”
+
+Varley obeyed, wonderingly, while Sam stripped off his own overcoat.
+
+“Get a couple of poles--good, straight ones!” he said curtly to Step
+and Poke.
+
+The former had a big knife; the latter caught up the woodsman’s axe.
+In a moment each had cut a promising sapling and was lopping away the
+leafless branches.
+
+Sam slipped an end of one of the poles inside Varley’s coat, and
+through the right sleeve. Then he repeated the operation with the other
+pole, this time, however, making use of the left sleeve. A moment more,
+and he had similarly disposed of his own overcoat at the other end of
+the poles, and was drawing the two garments close together. Thus he had
+an extemporized stretcher, with the coats as cover and the saplings as
+supports. It was not a handsome contrivance, but looked serviceable.
+The heavy outer jackets were of stout cloth, and the sleeves would
+prevent the poles from working loose.
+
+And now came a difficult task--the placing of the sufferer on the
+stretcher. In this all the boys joined, doing their work as gently as
+they could. The woodsman did his best to help, but in spite of his
+pluck a deep groan burst from his lips, and his face was ashen when at
+last he lay upon the coats.
+
+At a nod from Sam the boys laid hold of the poles, Sam himself and Step
+at the man’s head, and Poke and Varley at his feet.
+
+“Easy, everybody!” was the leader’s caution, but it was hardly
+necessary. With all imaginable care the stretcher was raised, and the
+bearers began their slow march. Luckily, the hardest part of it was
+soon over. Once they were out of the woods and in the open fields
+progress was easier, especially for Varley, who was still far from
+master of his snow-shoes.
+
+Sam had learned where the man lived, and directed their course toward
+the house, which was perhaps a quarter-mile from the scene of the
+accident. Before reaching it they came to the road, and had to solve a
+problem in scaling the wall with their burden. This they accomplished
+safely, though not without much trouble; but, as if in speedy reward,
+they then experienced an unexpected bit of good fortune.
+
+A white horse came trotting along the beaten track, drawing a sleigh in
+which rode a gray old man, muffled in a huge fur coat. At sight of the
+party the old man pulled up.
+
+“Dr. Emery!” cried Poke and Step joyfully.
+
+The doctor sprang from the sleigh. He needed no explanation of what had
+happened. He made hasty examination of the woodsman; glanced at the
+extemporized stretcher; grunted.
+
+“Huh! Good idea, that! Rough and ready, but it answers. And you’re
+bringing him in? Right!”
+
+The injured man forced the wanest and faintest of smiles.
+
+“Say, Doc!” he whispered. “Them--them boys--they--they’ve got gumption!”
+
+The doctor nodded briskly, and began to climb into his sleigh.
+
+“It’s only a little way to the house--’twouldn’t pay to try to load him
+in here. I’ll go ahead, and have things ready to take care of him. Get
+him to the door, and there I’ll take him off your hands.”
+
+Step tightened his grip on the stretcher pole. He looked to Sam for
+orders.
+
+“Give us the word, Sam,” he said. “You’re captain of this team.”
+
+Sam felt his pulse quicken. Circumstances had done for him what he
+would have been puzzled to do for himself. Once more he and his chums
+of the club were on the good old terms of fellowship.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI A LITTLE LUNCH
+
+
+“Well! I’m mighty glad that’s over. But now what are we going to do?”
+
+It was Step who spoke thus, addressing Poke and Sam and Varley, as they
+stood grouped in the road before the house in which they had left the
+injured man. Nearly an hour had passed since they brought him home on
+the extemporized stretcher, and it had been a busy hour at that. Dr.
+Emery had not hesitated to press the boys into service. They had gone
+on errands to neighbors’ houses; they had assisted in the transfer of
+the victim of the accident from the stretcher to his bed; they had
+brought in a supply of fire-wood for the woman of the house; Poke
+had driven away in the doctor’s sleigh and returned with a nurse of
+much experience in caring for the sick of the countryside. At last,
+though, all that could be done had been done. The doctor had resumed
+his interrupted round; the nurse of experience had taken charge of the
+distracted household; the sufferer was resting as comfortably as one
+might hope to rest with fractured ribs and bruised body and limbs.
+
+“Boys, you’ve behaved like trumps,” had been Dr. Emery’s parting words.
+“It has been a good morning’s work for all of you. Guess I’ll have to
+enroll you as my first-aid detachment.”
+
+With that he clucked to his horse, and rode off, leaving the four in
+the road. There followed a long silence, which Step ended. The boys
+looked at each other. Step had uttered the thought of all of them. What
+were they to do next?
+
+The strain and the excitement were over. Not one of them but felt the
+reaction. Varley gave a queer little laugh.
+
+“Fellows, this sort of thing’s all new to me. I--well, it’s taken all
+the ginger out of me. I feel like a--a----”
+
+“Like a rag?” Sam suggested.
+
+Varley nodded. “That’s it! Like a rag, and a wet rag, to boot.”
+
+Poke wagged his head solemnly. “I know! Been there myself. Sort of gets
+you here----” and he laid a hand on his stomach.
+
+“That’s just it! It isn’t exactly as if you were hungry, but like it,
+somehow.”
+
+Sam, the practical, pulled out his watch, and whistled softly.
+
+“Whew! No wonder you chaps feel that way. It’s twenty minutes to
+twelve.”
+
+“And dinner’s six or seven miles away!” gasped Poke.
+
+“Nearer eight.”
+
+This time Poke didn’t gasp; he groaned. “I see where somebody I know
+gets mighty unpopular at our house. Confound fussy folks, anyway!”
+
+“Same thing at our place,” quoth Step and drew a long face. “If a
+fellow’s late for a meal they act as if they thought he ought to be in
+jail.”
+
+“Well, it’s up to us to make tracks,” said Sam, then cast a half
+dubious glance at Varley; a hurried march back to town would be no joke
+for the novice on snow-shoes.
+
+Varley noted the glance, and read it aright. “Wait a minute,
+fellows,” he said. “I’ll own up. I’m almost all in. No, I don’t mean
+I’m leg-weary exactly; it’s more wear and tear on nerves, I guess. If
+I could have a bite to eat and a chance to sit down by a fire for a
+while, I’d be all right.”
+
+“Huh! I guess that’s what Jonah said when he found himself inside the
+whale!” jeered Step.
+
+Sam spoke quickly. “Varley’s hit it! I feel the same way, only I didn’t
+know enough to say so. I don’t hanker for that tramp home, but what
+else is there to do?”
+
+“Nothing,” agreed Poke gloomily. “We might as well start.”
+
+But again Varley delayed them. “Hold on! Parker, you told me about a
+hotel at the foot of Rainbow Mountain, didn’t you? Unless I’m all wrong
+in my geography, we must have been traveling toward it, and it can’t be
+very far away.”
+
+“Not more than a mile,” said Sam.
+
+The other’s face brightened. “Then I’ve a scheme. Let’s go there and
+get something to eat.”
+
+“Oh!” said Sam doubtfully.
+
+Step shook his head, and Poke slapped a pocket, from which came no
+cheering jingling of coin.
+
+“My treat, of course!” cried Varley hastily.
+
+“I guess we’d better not--thank you, of course, though.”
+
+That was Sam’s instinctive observation. Step shook his head harder than
+ever. Poke rubbed his chin uncertainly; at that moment he was conscious
+of a peculiarly vigorous appetite.
+
+Varley seemed to know how to meet the objections of the others.
+
+“Oh, come now!” said he persuasively. “You fellows have been doing
+things for me, and helping me out with these contraptions----” he
+glanced at his snow-shoes. “You’ve given me a lot of pointers. Give me
+a show to even up part of it. Parker tells me the hotel is open. We’ll
+go there and get a little lunch, and loaf around for a while, and start
+for town when we feel like it. It’s the one sensible thing to do. Why
+not?”
+
+None of the others found it easy to explain why it was not the sensible
+thing. And Varley’s careless reference to the proposed refreshment as
+a “little lunch” certainly did seem to throw new light on the case and
+remove in some degree the sense of incurring undue obligation.
+
+“Why--why--I don’t know--that is, I don’t see----” Poke began.
+
+“’Twould be fun,” Step admitted.
+
+“Certainly it will--come along!” Varley urged.
+
+Sam hesitated. The case was of a sort to perplex an older and wiser
+head than his. On the one hand was reluctance to accept hospitality
+he might not be able to return; on the other was dread of appearing
+boorishly unresponsive. His pocket money chanced to be low; and he
+was quite sure Step and Poke were in the same plight. So it couldn’t
+very well be a “Dutch treat.” And pride revolted a bit--town pride,
+perhaps--at being at a disadvantage, compared with the city youth. But
+Sam was hungry. Poke was hungry, too, and so was Step.
+
+Varley tugged at Sam’s sleeve. “Let’s trot along!” he urged. “Just a
+little lunch, you know. Make us feel like fighting cocks, it will. And
+I don’t mind telling you I need something like grub to take away that
+goneness.”
+
+It was the repetition of the “little lunch” which turned the scales
+with Sam. Rather vaguely he pictured light refreshment--sandwiches,
+maybe, and a boiled egg or two--to be enjoyed picnic fashion.
+
+“All right, I’m with you, Varley--and much obliged,” he said. “Do as
+much for you some day. And I’d be glad to have a look at the Rainbow
+Mountain House. They say it’s a very good hotel.”
+
+“Well, we’ll find out how good it is!” cried Varley jubilantly. “Come
+ahead!”
+
+It was a generous mile that lay between the boys and the hotel, but
+with the spur of hunger and the equally encouraging sense of mild
+adventure, they covered the distance briskly enough. On the road Varley
+was a humble follower of his companions, but when they entered the big
+lobby of the hostelry, he took command of the expedition.
+
+The others hesitated briefly, glancing about them at the great fire
+blazing cheerily, at the many easy chairs, at the tables on which were
+ranged newspapers and magazines, at the deer heads on the wall, at
+the half dozen guests who were in evidence, some of them in the fur
+coats in which they had just returned from a long drive in sleighs. But
+Varley unconcernedly crossed to the desk, and addressed the clerk on
+duty.
+
+“Lunch for four,” he said. “And we’d like it at once, if we can have
+it.”
+
+The clerk pushed forward the big register, and offered Varley a pen.
+
+“Certainly,” said he. “Luncheon is served in the main dining-room.”
+
+Varley entered the names of the party in the book--he had to ask Step
+and Poke’s initials, but he wrote “Samuel Parker” without hesitation.
+Then he stepped back, smiling cheerily.
+
+“We’ll freshen up a bit, and then go right in,” said he.
+
+Both Sam and Step had been studying the lobby and the people, but Poke
+was staring, in a sort of fascination, at a tall vase at an end of the
+desk. It was slender and graceful of line, and was made of a prismatic
+glass, which caught the light and reflected it in many-hued brilliance.
+
+“Golly! Look at the sparkle!” he exclaimed.
+
+“That’s our mascot--our luck piece,” the clerk explained. “Odd thing,
+isn’t it? You’re quite right about the sparkle--regular rainbow effect,
+in fact. That’s why it fits the Rainbow Mountain House, you see.”
+
+Poke wagged his head in his solemn fashion. “I do see it. And it
+is--er--er--it is mighty--er--er--appropriate.”
+
+But Varley was tugging at his sleeve. “Oh, come along! A plate with a
+lot on it would look still more appropriate.”
+
+Poke yielded to the pull. “There’s room for more than one good thing in
+the world at a time,” he remarked philosophically. “I’ll be glad enough
+to eat, but that--that sparkler--say, somehow it takes my fancy a lot.”
+
+“Well, you can sit down after lunch and admire it,” Varley reminded
+him. “Just now your first duty to yourself is to play an engagement in
+the dining-room.”
+
+The Rainbow Mountain House was a very comfortable, well-managed hotel,
+whose landlord had a theory that people liked good things to eat. His
+winter guests especially were likely to be blessed with vigorous
+appetites, and he took especial pains not to disappoint them. So, while
+the midday meal was known as luncheon, it was, in fact, a substantial
+repast, daintily served in the big, sunny dining-room. Sam’s first
+glimpse of the bill of fare made him glance swiftly, and suspiciously,
+at Varley. A little lunch, forsooth! Why, this was a dinner of half
+a dozen courses. But Varley met the glance blandly and with no
+recognition, apparently, of the fact that it was suspicious. He was
+entirely at his ease in presiding over the table to which the boys had
+been conducted; and what was more, he put his guests at their ease.
+
+Truth to tell, the four had an excellent time. All of them had been
+at still larger and more pretentious hotels than the Rainbow Mountain
+House, but always in company with their elders; and this little party
+had the agreeable tang of novelty and independence. Varley kept the
+talk going briskly. He told a story or two of his misadventures at
+boarding-school. He added another of an odd experience while traveling
+in Europe, but gave no hint of regarding himself as a person of
+superior talents or attainments; for quite as cheerfully he related
+some of the amusing blunders into which he had been led by ignorance of
+the ways of the country. Then the other boys recalled tales to cap his,
+so that, altogether, it was a very merry group about the table.
+
+Finally the meal was over, and Varley tipped the waitress with a
+practiced ease which vastly impressed the observant Poke. The four went
+out into the lobby, and found chairs near the great fire. They were
+filled with the comforting sense of ease and refreshment, and nobody
+was disposed to suggest an early start on the long tramp to town. It
+was much better fun to toast before the fire and watch the people come
+straggling in, some from snow-shoe expeditions, others from coasting.
+There was a pleasant murmur of talk, with a deal of rippling laughter
+and a subdued bustle, very restful and soothing to the well-fed
+listener.
+
+Varley sauntered over to the desk. There he paid the bill. The other
+boys saw him draw a roll of notes from his pocket, pass one to the
+clerk, and stow away his change with barely a glance at the silver.
+
+“Gee! but he’s well heeled!” Poke whispered to Sam, admiringly.
+
+Sam nodded, but said nothing. It was clear that Varley was well
+supplied with spending money; but he was not moved to comment on the
+fact.
+
+“Say! He knows how to do things up brown!” Poke insisted.
+
+“Indeed he does!” Sam agreed heartily enough.
+
+Poke stretched himself luxuriously. “This is one bully place! I like
+everything about it. Cracking good feed, wasn’t it? And that shiny vase
+over there---- Say, somehow I can’t keep my eyes off it!”
+
+“It is pretty.”
+
+“Pretty!” Poke’s tone was protesting. “That’s a mild way to put it. I
+could sit and look at it for an hour at a time.”
+
+Sam made no reply. He was watching Varley, who was talking to the
+clerk, but who finally wheeled, and returned to his companions, smiling
+a trifle uncertainly.
+
+“I hope you won’t think I’m too much of a quitter,” he said, “but I
+may as well own up. I don’t fancy that hike back. So I’ve made a deal
+with that fellow to send us home in a sleigh. We can start whenever
+we’re ready. And--and I hope you won’t mind.”
+
+It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to make protest, but Step spoke first.
+
+“Mind? Not I! I’m not too proud to ride--not by a long shot.”
+
+“Good! Then we’ll consider that settled,” said Varley quickly.
+
+Poke shot a glance at Sam. “What did I tell you about doing things up
+brown?” he queried with a chuckle.
+
+Again Sam said nothing. As it happened, it did not occur to him that he
+needed to say anything.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII THE SHARK LECTURES
+
+
+The Shark was out of humor. He sat in a corner of the club-room,
+glowering through his spectacles at his fellow members, and quite
+ignoring the chess-board on the table beside him.
+
+Now, though the Shark had a brusque manner and was often curt in
+speech, he really was a fellow of even disposition, and seldom
+became involved in disputes. One reason for this, perhaps, was
+the circumstance, observed by the philosophical Poke and by him
+communicated to the rest of the club, that “it was surprising how many
+things didn’t make any difference to the Shark.” Athletic rivalries
+did not excite him; school competitions, except in his specialty of
+mathematics, ordinarily had no interest for him; unless forced to do
+so, he gave no heed to school politics. The other members of the club
+might be in a fine state of mind over any of a dozen questions without
+stirring the Shark perceptibly. So it was all the more curious that
+this day, when his friends appeared to be getting along in harmony, the
+Shark was having a fit of the sulks or the blues. He had been working
+over a chess problem--working and growling, it must be confessed--and
+having failed to reach its solution, had pushed back the board and was
+regarding the others darkly and with hostility.
+
+The club was in full session. Everybody was there, with Sam Parker
+fully restored to his old position of influence. A fortnight had passed
+since the rescue of the injured woodsman and Varley’s little lunch,
+two incidents which had restored Sam’s relations with Step and Poke
+and made easy his return to the fellowship of the club. There it was
+understood that Parker didn’t like to be joked about runaway horses
+or mince pies, and these topics being placed under taboo, things were
+going much as they had gone in the days before Mrs. Grant’s horse chose
+to bolt and before Varley came upon the scene.
+
+Sam enjoyed the renewed companionship. It had needed a brief denial of
+it to realize what it meant to him. So he had been as little disposed
+to take offense as the others had been to give it; and there had been
+hardly a ripple of bickering anywhere until the Shark, of a sudden,
+developed a case of nerves and a yearning for squabbles.
+
+“You’re the most useless crowd!” he grumbled. “Why don’t you do
+something? Why don’t you get a move on? You’re loafing on the job,
+every one of you!”
+
+There was a long silence after this outburst, which took the others
+completely by surprise. Finally Sam spoke.
+
+“Well, what do you want to have us do?”
+
+“Oh, anything!”
+
+“But what is there to do?” Step inquired.
+
+“What is there to do?” the Shark echoed scornfully. He sprang from his
+chair and came forward. “Look here, all of you! You make me tired! Why,
+right in this room a while ago I heard Step going on about this being
+the meanest, slowest, stupidest part of the year.”
+
+“So it is,” Step insisted.
+
+“That’s what you said. There’s no skating, and the snow-shoeing and
+sleighing and coasting are not worth having--wasn’t that your argument?”
+
+“I’m sticking to it still.”
+
+“Bosh!”
+
+Then Poke took a hand. “Tell you what it is, Shark,” said he. “Winter’s
+all right, in its way; but you can get too much of a good thing. It
+gets monotonous--leave it to you if it doesn’t.”
+
+The Shark declined to commit himself. “This gang is getting lazy. All
+it seems to care for is to sit around and tell stories. You’re as good
+for nothing as a lot of woodchucks stowed away in a hole till spring
+comes.”
+
+“Well, the woodchuck knows his business,” quoth Step.
+
+“It’s mighty poor business, all the same, for a pack of human beings.”
+
+Trojan Walker laughed softly. “Ha, ha! If you’d like my opinion, Shark,
+getting mad with the world because you can’t work out a chess problem
+is worse business still.”
+
+The Shark whipped about to face him. “Can’t work it out, can’t I? Huh!
+Much you know about it! I’ll show you now--no I won’t, either; you
+wouldn’t understand.”
+
+“And you would? And that’s what makes you so pleasant to all of us?”
+
+“Who wants to be pleasant to a crowd that just sits around and talks
+about a city fellow who happens to have more money than he knows what
+to do with?”
+
+“What! You mean Varley?”
+
+“Course I do!”
+
+There was another pause before anybody made answer to the charge. Two
+or three of the boys glanced inquiringly at Sam, as if they felt that
+here was a matter concerning which it behooved him to speak. So Sam it
+was who broke the silence.
+
+“Shark, what ails you, anyway? Varley’s all right.”
+
+“Huh! So’s his money and the big dinners it buys!”
+
+“What’s that?”
+
+“You heard well enough. You and Step and Poke haven’t been talking
+about anything for a week but that feed he gave you.”
+
+Step’s long arm shot out. He shook a finger under the Shark’s nose.
+
+“You mean we’re toadying to him because he treated us to lunch? Say
+that, straight out, and I’ll smash you!”
+
+The Shark was a head shorter than the tall Step, but he was in no
+mood to shrink from controversy, vocal or physical. He bristled
+belligerently.
+
+“You don’t dare do it! And you can’t put words in my mouth!”
+
+“Take it back then!”
+
+“I’ll take nothing back--that I’ve said.”
+
+A little voice seemed to whisper in Sam’s ear that the Safety First
+Club was hardly living up to its name. He caught Step’s wrist, and drew
+the tall youth back. Then he addressed the still bristling Shark.
+
+“I don’t like what you’ve said any better than Step likes it. But I
+don’t intend to let anybody get into a fight over it. It was a bully
+good dinner we had, and I’m not ashamed to say it was. You wouldn’t
+have me lie about it, would you?”
+
+“N-no,” the Shark admitted.
+
+“And you wouldn’t expect me to pretend I was ashamed of accepting
+Varley’s invitation?”
+
+“Why--why, no.”
+
+“And I haven’t hinted you were sore because you weren’t lucky enough to
+be there.”
+
+The Shark reddened to the roots of his hair. “Anybody who says
+that----” he began hotly.
+
+“I haven’t said it,” Sam interposed promptly. “Why haven’t I? Because I
+know, and every other fellow here knows, it isn’t true.”
+
+“Oh!” said the Shark, with a queer little gasp, and a perceptible
+lessening of ferocity.
+
+Sam pressed his advantage. “Be sensible, can’t you? I like Varley; so
+do most of the others. For some reason you don’t. That’s no excuse,
+though, for a general row. Varley isn’t thrusting himself in here
+or----”
+
+“Huh! That’s just what he did do in the beginning.”
+
+“Well, that was because he didn’t understand the custom about
+outsiders. But he was clever enough to guess visitors weren’t the usual
+thing. You’ll notice he hasn’t come here again.”
+
+“Huh! Good reason!”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“I told him not to,” said the Shark grimly.
+
+Sam stared at the spectacled youth. “You--you said that--to his face?”
+
+“Sure!” said the Shark doggedly. “When? Oh, three-four days ago. Where?
+On the street, where we’d met, and where he’d stopped me, and begun to
+hint about what a smooth joint we had here, and how he’d like to look
+in occasionally. Then I told him it was a closed club. Why shouldn’t I
+tell him? Fact, isn’t it?”
+
+“Yes. Only with a fellow from out of town, a stranger----”
+
+The Shark interrupted Sam. “Look here! I don’t pretend to fancy
+Varley overmuch, but there I was treating him just as I’d treat the
+best friend I have. I let him have the truth. It’ll save him a lot of
+embarrassment. Besides, he isn’t what you’d call a stranger any more.
+He’s staying in town right along, and he’s going to school--no use
+trying to put him off in a class by himself.”
+
+Sam frowned, but Poke spoke sharply.
+
+“Hang it, Shark, but you have messed things! And after that cracking
+good dinner he treated us to--geeminy, but I wish I knew how we could
+even up things for that!”
+
+“All right--go ahead and even them all you please,” growled the Shark;
+then his tone changed. “See here, you fellows! You’ve got me started,
+and I’m going to free my mind. I don’t like the way you’re behaving.
+You’re quitting on the job, the bunch of you!”
+
+“Bully boy, Shark! Go it!” jeered the Trojan.
+
+“I will! Listen! There isn’t one of you that’s stirred a finger to win
+that history essay prize. You mope around, and wail about the weather
+and the snow and nothing to do, and don’t even dream of trying to land
+that hundred dollars. Can you deny that, Trojan? Or you, Sam? Or you,
+Poke? Or Herman, or Step or Tom Orkney?” He was shaking an accusing
+hand at each of them in turn. “All of you heard what the principal
+said. Now hear what I say: It’s a shame and disgrace to the club that
+you’re letting this chance go by default.”
+
+“How about yourself?” Step demanded.
+
+“I’m out of it. My line’s different. I can do things with figures, but
+not with words. Two or three of you fellows write decently. Why don’t
+you pull together--it’s allowable, under the rules--and gather in that
+hundred?”
+
+Nobody took upon himself the responsibility of making reply.
+
+The Shark glanced from one to another. His manner was still grim.
+
+“That’s right--think it over!” said he. “Let it sink in. And don’t
+forget the rest of the class is watching the club. I’ve had a couple of
+nasty raps handed me about a gang that put on a lot of side, yet didn’t
+have sand enough to make good at anything requiring real work.”
+
+“Who said that?” asked Sam.
+
+“Never mind! It was said--said to me.”
+
+“I’ve heard something of the sort,” said Tom Orkney quietly.
+
+Two or three of the others stirred uneasily; it was to be inferred that
+they, too, had been reminded of the club’s inactivity.
+
+The Shark picked up his cap.
+
+“Well, I feel better,” quoth he. “I’ve got the thing off my chest. I’ve
+got to cut along now, but you fellows can mull over what I’ve told you.
+The lecture’s over; but it’s up to you to show whether or not it’s
+going to do any good.”
+
+With that he walked out of the room, leaving a group whose members
+seemed to be of diverse opinions about his views. Step declared that it
+was hopeless to attempt to win the competition; Herman and the Trojan
+were uncertain; Orkney inclined to the idea that the attempt would be
+worth making.
+
+Poke, his face puckered and his air a bit mysterious, drew Sam aside.
+
+“Look here! The Shark has sure chucked the fat in the fire!” he
+whispered. “Say, we’ve got to do something!”
+
+“Umph! I don’t believe the bunch of us can do much,” Sam objected.
+
+“I’m not talking about the prize. It’s Varley I’m worrying about. Don’t
+you see, after the crack the Shark made to him, we’ve just got to wipe
+out the obligation for that dinner?”
+
+“I wish we could! Only I don’t see how----”
+
+Poke broke in, his manner more mysterious than ever. “Hold your horses,
+Sam! You watch me! No; I can’t lisp a word, but maybe--well, there’s
+a chance your little old uncle will be able to square accounts and put
+us all on Easy Street, Shark or no Shark. How? Can’t breathe a syllable
+about it--now. Just watch and wait--that’s all you’ll have to do, Sam!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII POKE’S MYSTERY
+
+
+Ordinarily, Sam might have thought little of Poke’s mysterious hint,
+for Poke’s fancy was lively at times, but the bearing of that well-fed
+youth continued to suggest consciousness of a great secret. Now and
+then he winked craftily at Sam, or wagged his head portentously, or
+shook with glee at thoughts he was not ready to confide to his friends.
+Observing which things, Sam meditated and wondered, and gained no clew
+to the mystery.
+
+Sam, though, had plenty of other interests to claim his attention.
+The Shark, after his outburst at the club, had resumed his manner of
+indifference. He neither repeated his criticisms of his mates nor
+displayed dislike for Varley, but went his own way in his old fashion.
+It was evident, however, that what he had said about the club and the
+prize essay had not fallen on wholly deaf ears. Herman Boyd and the
+Trojan came to Sam to inquire if he really believed there would be a
+chance to carry off the honor, and Tom Orkney put the same question
+still more earnestly.
+
+“It does seem as if we ought to have a try at it,” he said. “The Shark
+was more than half right about the--the--well, about the ‘laying down’
+business. And if you think there’s a show for any of us, it looks as if
+the club should get busy.”
+
+“Some of the other crowds talking?” Sam queried shrewdly.
+
+Orkney nodded. “I’d be likeliest to hear it--last fellow in the club,
+you know. So I’m told things that might not be said directly to the
+rest of you.”
+
+“What sort of things?”
+
+“Well, that the club flocks by itself, and puts on airs, but never
+amounts to much when it comes to a pinch; that it never gathers in any
+prizes except the mathematical ones, and they’re just the Shark’s meat;
+that here’s a big prize we won’t get because no one in the crowd has
+the sand to make a fight for it.”
+
+“Exactly!” said Sam. He was quite aware of the jealousies due to
+cliques in a school, and more than once had noted some very open
+fishing for an invitation to join the Safety First Club. Also, when the
+angling had resulted in failure, there had been, generally, an increase
+in the unfavorable comment about the club by critics who didn’t belong
+to it.
+
+Orkney coughed a little dubiously. “Ahem, ahem! Of course, all that
+sort of thing is plain yapping, but, all the same, I’d like to see us
+getting into this game. If I could do anything to help--say, though,
+I’m no use when it comes to writing. But in digging for facts, I’ll
+be ready to hold up my end. And facts are what are going to count.
+And there’s nothing to prevent the crowd pulling together--the prize
+essay doesn’t have to be one person’s work. Why, two or three of the
+girls have teamed up, and make no bones about it. The principal told
+’em it was allowable, especially since the person who is putting up
+the hundred dollars really wants to get data on the town’s settlement
+and early history, and regards this plan as merely a way of securing
+assistance he is glad to pay for.”
+
+“Well, then, it’s my notion some of the girls will win,” declared Sam.
+“They’re better pluggers--more persistent--than the fellows. Besides,
+the composition will count for something--can’t help counting--and
+that’s where they’ll do better work.”
+
+“Then you’re against our going in?”
+
+Sam protested. “No; I’m not. Only I don’t think any of us would have a
+living chance. But if any of you fellows want to sail in, I’ll wish you
+all the good luck there is. Still, short of finding the lost diary of
+Dominie Pike----”
+
+“What’s that?” Orkney interrupted. He was comparatively a newcomer, and
+still had many of the town’s traditions to learn.
+
+“Dominie Pike was the first minister,” Sam explained. “He came with
+the very earliest of the settlers--some people say he himself was the
+very first. He kept a diary, and put in it everything of interest that
+happened to himself or his neighbors, and all their dealings with the
+Indians----”
+
+“Indians?”
+
+“Of course! There was quite a powerful tribe here. Dominie Pike was
+great friends with them, and there are lots of stories about that part
+of the town’s history--trouble prevented by the Dominie, you know. No
+doubt they’re all in the diary, but nobody knows what happened to the
+diary. Folks have found many references to it in old letters, showing
+that people knew about it, and had read it, or parts of it, anyway.
+Then it seemed to disappear. The Historical Society has hunted for it
+high and low, but never has got a trace of it.”
+
+Orkney whistled softly. “My! But I wish we could come across it! It
+would just fill the bill.”
+
+“It would,” said Sam drily, and left Orkney to meditate ways and means
+of accomplishing what so far the town had found to be impossible in the
+matter of tracing the lost diary of the old minister.
+
+Their talk, however, had given Sam food for thought. It would be a fine
+thing for the club to score in the competition. But, also, it would be
+pleasing to find a way to square the account with Varley. Sam, casting
+about, hit upon a plan or two, which failed to work out satisfactorily.
+His mother listened willingly enough to hints that he would like
+to have a party, but showed an inclination to make it a general
+entertainment for the girls and boys of his acquaintance, which by no
+means met his approval. Sam’s notion of the proper thing was a small
+and strictly masculine gathering, at which Varley could be the guest of
+honor.
+
+Of Varley, as it happened, he was seeing very little. Paul was
+regularly attending school, but he was formally enrolled as a Senior,
+and thus seemed to gravitate naturally into association with the
+boys of the last year. When he encountered Sam or any of the other
+members of the Safety First Club, he appeared to be quite at ease and
+untroubled by any thought of the breach he had unwittingly made in
+their rules; but Sam noticed--or thought he noticed--a disposition on
+Varley’s part not to seek his society, even if there was no effort to
+avoid it. He had no doubt that the Shark’s frankness had enlightened
+Varley about the club’s ban on uninvited guests; and his respect grew
+for a fellow who could “carry it off so well”--as he phrased it--a
+situation which Sam himself found most embarrassing.
+
+Poke, meanwhile, was getting a deal of enjoyment out of his mysterious
+secret, which, at last, he seemed to have shared with his especial
+crony, Step; for the latter, of a sudden, became as excited as Poke
+himself. The pair had conferences and conferences, with much chuckling
+and whispering and rib-nudging. And then, one day, both came to Sam to
+make an amazing announcement.
+
+Poke was in funds. Fortune had made him affluent. He proposed to bid
+his friends share his prosperity. Also he proposed to even the score
+with Paul Varley.
+
+Sam was practical. Where had the money come from?
+
+Poke explained gleefully. An elderly and well-to-do aunt had made him a
+present of twenty-five dollars. By certain miracles of good behavior he
+had won parental permission to spend the windfall as he pleased.
+
+“Now I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Poke went on. “I’m going to
+take the whole club and Varley out to the Rainbow Mountain House, and
+give ’em a bang-up good dinner. We’ll make it a hike out and back, with
+the feed in between. Great notion, eh?”
+
+“Let’s see your cash!” said Sam bluntly.
+
+Poke produced a roll of bills with a flourish. “There! Count ’em if you
+want to.”
+
+Sam took advantage of the permission.
+
+“Well, it’s twenty-five, all right,” he admitted, as he returned the
+bills.
+
+“Sure it is! And twenty’ll pay for the dinners for the crowd. Oh, I’ve
+found out. I’ve been doing a lot of telephoning out to the hotel, and
+everything’s arranged for next Saturday.”
+
+“Invited Varley yet?”
+
+“No; I’m waiting to hear what you have to say.”
+
+Sam took thought. “It--it’s a good deal for you to blow in, Poke.”
+
+Poke waved a lordly hand. “Oh, easy come, easy go, Sam. Hang the
+expense!”
+
+“You’ve been talking about this?”
+
+“A lot--to Step. He thinks it’s a great idea.”
+
+Sam was not surprised by this information; nor was he greatly
+impressed. “I was thinking of your folks.”
+
+“They don’t mind. That part’s all right--honest!”
+
+Still Sam hesitated; noting which, Poke went on, eagerly:
+
+“Come now! You know how the thing is. We ought to do something for
+Varley and----”
+
+“That’s so. Only all of us ought to chip in.”
+
+“Nonsense! He did it alone, and I’m going to do it alone. But it’ll
+count for the whole club. And we ought to get square with him, hadn’t
+we?”
+
+“Y-yes.”
+
+“Then let’s do it!” cried Poke triumphantly. “I’ll ask Varley to-day.
+Better, hadn’t I?” he concluded, of a sudden, questioning.
+
+There was a brief pause. Then said Sam, slowly and half-reluctantly:
+“Why--why--yes, I guess so.”
+
+“Then it’s as good as done!” quoth Poke, and departed in search of the
+proposed guest of honor.
+
+The youthful code is usually simple but exacting. “Pay your debts”
+stands close to the head of its list of rules. Instinctively Sam
+doubted the success of Poke’s undertaking--things had a way of
+happening unexpectedly to Poke. Still, he saw no sound reason for
+interfering with the plan to restore the balance between the Safety
+First Club and Paul Varley. He would have preferred himself to be the
+host, but as that might not be, he yielded the place to his plump
+friend.
+
+Varley accepted the invitation. He would be delighted to go to Poke’s
+dinner, and he said so.
+
+The attendance of all the club’s members was taken for granted; and all
+were promptly at the meeting-place on Saturday morning. The sun was
+shining, the air was fine and bracing, and the snow was in excellent
+condition. The party set out on the tramp in high spirits, taking a
+somewhat roundabout course to the hotel, but passing close to the house
+of the injured woodsman. There they halted briefly to make inquiry as
+to his condition, and were told that he was convalescing satisfactorily.
+
+They brought noble appetites to the feast, and even the doubtful Sam
+was forced to admit to himself that Poke had arranged matters very
+well, indeed. A private dining-room was set aside for the youthful
+visitors; the quite ample bill of fare had been lengthened with
+especial attention to their tastes. Poke beamingly presided at the head
+of the table, with Varley at his right and Sam at his left. Poke, in
+fact, was having the time of his life, and when the others called upon
+him for a speech, he made one willingly enough.
+
+“Tell you, fellows, I’m awfully glad all of you could come,”
+said he. “Seemed to me it would be a bully idea to--er--er”--he
+paused, of a sudden reminded that one may not eulogize one’s own
+hospitality--“er--er--that is, we ought to do something to--er--er--to
+break the monotony. Stupidest part of the year, you know. Anything for
+a little variety. Of course, I might have done other things, but it
+struck me the crowd would like a square meal----”
+
+“Yes, we needed it!” the Trojan put in in a stage whisper.
+
+Poke reddened. “Say, I didn’t mean that, and you know it! All of you
+get plenty to eat; so do I. Only we don’t have the chance to eat
+together; and I knew this was a cracking good place. So here we are!
+And I’d like to know if anybody has anything to say against it?”
+
+“Not a word!” cried the Trojan.
+
+“Go on, Poke!” Herman Boyd encouraged.
+
+“Sure! Give the boy orator his head!” grinned Sam.
+
+“You’ve got ’em going, Poke--don’t let up!” “Hit us again--we haven’t
+got any friends!” “My, but isn’t he the silver-tongued spell-binder!”
+There was a medley of shouts; Poke shook his fist in mock defiance.
+
+“I haven’t much more to say, and I’ll make short work of it. You
+fellows are all right, though you might know a lot more than you do.
+Oh, I’m the same way--I admit it. But I know enough to stop when I’m
+through. So that’s why I’m going to say again that I’m glad you’re
+here, and sit down.”
+
+There was lusty clapping of hands. Then Varley rose, his glass in his
+hand.
+
+“I propose,” he said, “the very good health of Poke Green. Long may he
+wave!”
+
+They drank the toast in sparkling spring water, and drank it with
+enthusiasm. Then there were other toasts to Varley, to Sam, to the rest
+of the party; all to the general satisfaction and the especial delight
+of Poke. He was beaming more broadly than ever when they filed out
+of the dining-room and into the big lobby. There was just a bit of a
+swagger in his walk, as he strolled up to the desk, and pulled out his
+pocketbook.
+
+The clerk, catching the spirit of the occasion, made a little ceremony
+of making out the account and presenting Poke with the receipt. Also he
+expressed the hope that the dinner had been to the satisfaction of the
+guests.
+
+“It was a corker!” quoth Poke, and thrust his change into a pocket.
+Then, perhaps suspecting that he had displayed unsophisticated warmth,
+he turned hastily. The tall vase of prismatic glass, which had held his
+admiration on his first visit to the hotel, caught his eye.
+
+“Say, isn’t that a peach of a shiner!” he exclaimed to Step, who
+happened to be nearest him.
+
+“Eh?” Step appeared to be in doubt of his meaning.
+
+Poke, impatiently and with the awkwardness of embarrassment, under the
+clerk’s gaze, threw out a hand.
+
+“Why, there----” he began, but broke off abruptly. The gesture
+had been more violent than he realized. His hand struck something
+smartly--and the something was the tall shaft of the vase.
+
+“Whew!” he gasped, and made a desperate effort to avert the disaster.
+But he was too late.
+
+The vase swayed. Then, seeming to slip through his hands, it fell from
+its standard, and striking the floor with a mighty crash was splintered
+into a score of pieces.
+
+Step, with a howl of alarm, sprang back. The others came running up to
+see what had happened. Poke, though, stood like one rooted to the spot,
+staring blankly at the glittering fragments.
+
+The clerk hurried from behind the desk. His expression was serious, but
+he spoke quietly, with no raising of his voice.
+
+“It’s too bad. An accident, of course, but an unfortunate one.”
+
+Poke found tongue. “I don’t see how I hit it. I was just trying to
+point to it, and bang! I was into it, and it was smashing on the floor!
+I never dreamed of--of--of making such a wreck.”
+
+“I presume not,” said the clerk in his quiet fashion. Then with a
+change of tone he addressed a bell-boy: “Clear up this mess--at once.”
+
+Instinctively Poke was fumbling in his pocket. “The damage--how much?
+If you’ll tell me, I’ll----”
+
+“Oh, there is no hurry,” said the clerk. “I shall have to refer the
+whole matter to the proprietor, who is away for a few days.”
+
+“Then I can’t settle it now?”
+
+The corners of the man’s mouth twitched, but his speech was
+matter-of-fact.
+
+“No; a case like this must be referred to the proprietor. I’m sure I
+don’t know what view he may take of it, or of the--ah--ah--the question
+of responsibility. We have your name and address, you understand; he
+can communicate with you if he desires to do so.”
+
+“Oh!” said Poke weakly. He was half rejoiced by the delay, half
+frightened by the hint of written claim for damages. “Oh! Then there’s
+nothing to be done now?”
+
+“Not a thing!” said the clerk crisply; and retired to his place behind
+the desk.
+
+Poke turned unhappily to his friends, but none of them had comfort to
+offer in this sudden and unfortunate turn in affairs.
+
+“I--I suppose we might as well start for home,” he said drearily. “I--I
+guess the sooner we’re out of here, the better.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX SAM GETS A REMINDER
+
+
+The disastrous sequel to Poke’s dinner party was the chief topic of
+talk among the Safety First Club, with Poke himself in a state of mind
+which can be more easily imagined than described. The breaking of the
+big vase was due to him. He had had not the slightest intention to
+break it, but this did not alter the bitter fact. He was responsible
+for the fall of the vase. Like the honest fellow he was, he accepted
+the responsibility--and wondered much how he was to meet it.
+
+What had been the value of the vase? Not a member of the club could
+enlighten him. Varley, approached as one of wider knowledge, declined
+to venture an opinion.
+
+“It may have cost a lot, or it may have been very cheap,” he said.
+“Unless you’re an expert, you can’t tell.”
+
+“That’s the way with a lot of things in this world!” groaned Poke, and
+sought the Shark, as an expert in mathematics, at least.
+
+The Shark gave him little comfort. He was more than ready to undertake
+a calculation of the possible value of the vase, based on the cost
+of a bit of cut-glass, owned by his mother, of the price of which he
+happened to be aware. But though he made most careful estimates of the
+height of the vase, he soon came to difficulties.
+
+“Look here, Poke!” said he. “I can arrive at an approximation of the
+volume of the thing, but how does the price increase in comparison
+with the size? Arithmetical or geometrical progression? If it’s
+arithmetical, it’ll be bad enough; but if it’s geometrical--whew!”
+
+Poke was aghast. “You--you mean it’d mount up to--to--hundreds of
+dollars?”
+
+“Hundreds? Rats! Thousands!” snapped the Shark. “Just you wait till I
+get it in black and white--on estimates, of course. I can’t pretend to
+get exact results when I’ve no precise data to work on.”
+
+But Poke didn’t wait. Instead, he fled; and seeking out his especial
+crony, Step, confided to him that he believed he was doomed to be a
+bond-slave for life.
+
+“You see, I’ve got to work it off myself,” he explained. “When the
+folks said I could have the party, they made it a condition that there
+mustn’t be any rough pranks--any breaking things, you know. And I
+promised there shouldn’t be. And there wasn’t--everybody behaved like
+a gentleman--till I went smashing into that show-piece. I haven’t told
+’em at the house--yet; I’ll never tell ’em if I can possibly help it.”
+
+“Sure you won’t,” quoth the sympathetic Step. “No fellow likes to ’fess
+up when the joke’s on him.”
+
+“The joke!” roared Poke. “Great Scott, but you’ve got a mighty queer
+notion of what’s funny! You’d like to see a house fall on a fellow.”
+
+“Oh, come now! I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” pleaded Step.
+
+“You can’t hurt ’em worse than they’re already hurt,” groaned Poke, of
+a sudden dreary again.
+
+He went away, so downcast and so unlike his normally cheerful self that
+Step was stricken with fear for him, tinged with remorse for his own
+lightsome treatment of the subject. And, being thus burdened in soul,
+he had an inspiration. He happened to know where some old catalogues of
+city department stores were gathering dust in an attic. These volumes,
+brought to light and consulted, offered hope. Step carried them to Poke.
+
+“Look here!” he said. “Maybe ’twon’t be so fierce, after all. Here’s a
+whopping big vase--I guess it’s taller than the one at the hotel. And
+it’s priced at only $3.98. There’s a picture of it.”
+
+Poke eagerly inspected the cut. Then his face fell.
+
+“’Tisn’t the same shape,” he objected.
+
+“Well, no--not exactly the same,” Step confessed. “There is a little
+difference.”
+
+“A little difference! Just about as little as there is between your
+shape and mine!”
+
+It was not an unhappy comparison. Poke was short and plump; Step was
+tall and slender. There was a like variance between the somewhat
+jug-like ornament depicted in the catalogue and the graceful vase which
+had stood on the desk of the Rainbow Mountain House.
+
+“All right; have it your way if you want to,” Step agreed.
+
+Again Poke studied the illustration. “What’s more, this one’s made out
+of different stuff. It doesn’t look like glass.”
+
+“I didn’t say it was.”
+
+Poke shut the book with a bang of temper. “You didn’t say anything
+sensible.”
+
+Then Step revolted at this ingratitude. “Look here, Poke, that’s
+carrying your grouch too far! Wasn’t I trying to help you?”
+
+“Oh, I know you mean well,” Poke groaned.
+
+“And wasn’t I doing you a favor? Don’t you want to be posted? Here’s a
+whopping big thing you can get for $3.98. That’s worth knowing if they
+try to come any funny business on you.”
+
+Poke cheered a trifle. “Say, there’s something in that.”
+
+“You bet there is! And when you come down to brass tacks, a vase is a
+vase.”
+
+Poke did not deny the proposition. “Yes; that’s so. Still----”
+
+“And you know where you’re at.”
+
+“But that’s just what I don’t.”
+
+“Of course you do!” Step said impatiently. “You’re getting a line
+on what vases cost--some vases, that is. And--er--er--‘Knowledge is
+power,’ you know,” he concluded with sudden solemnity.
+
+“I suppose that’s so,” Poke admitted dubiously. “Only I don’t see----”
+
+The fire of imagination blazed in Step--somehow it kindled readily when
+these two chums were in consultation.
+
+“Crackee! But I’ve got an idea, Poke--best ever! Don’t you wait for the
+hotel folks to do something. Do something yourself, and do it first!”
+
+“What can I do?” Poke asked helplessly.
+
+“That’s easy. You owe ’em for a vase. Send ’em one.”
+
+“What! One of the three-ninety-eight kind?”
+
+“How much money have you got?” Step demanded bluntly.
+
+“Oh, ten dollars or so--that is, by scraping everything together I can
+raise that much.”
+
+“Then make it a ten-dollar one--best you can find for the money. Ship
+it to ’em with a nice note--you know the sort: you greatly regret the
+accident and you’re making haste to replace the property destroyed.
+They’ll read it, and they’ll see the new vase, and they’ll say, ‘Well,
+there’s a boy who means to do the right thing; we can’t be too hard on
+him. Guess we’d better call it quits.’ And there you are! What more
+could you ask?”
+
+Poke was blinking like one dazzled by the prospect. “I--I--say, wonder
+if the thing would work?”
+
+“How can you tell till you try?”
+
+“That’s so. Only----”
+
+“Hang it, ‘only’ never got anybody anywhere!” Step expostulated.
+
+“Maybe not.”
+
+“It surely never did,” Step insisted.
+
+Poke evidently was half-persuaded. “It’s a great scheme--I’ll say that
+for it. So I guess I--I’ll----”
+
+“You’ll do it right off?”
+
+“No; I guess I’ll ask Sam’s advice.”
+
+Step’s face fell. “Oh, if you haven’t any mind of your own----”
+
+“I’ve mind enough to know Sam’s got more hard sense,” said Poke firmly.
+And to Sam he went, forthwith, laying before him Step’s plan and
+admitting his own liking for it.
+
+Sam listened patiently, but shook his head when the tale was told.
+
+“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a case of the Safety First rule,” he said.
+“Your selection, Poke, might not please the hotel people. And, of
+course, we’re all at sea about the value. No; better wait till you hear
+from them.”
+
+“But the suspense--it’s awful!”
+
+“It won’t kill you. Besides, very likely--that is, there’s a
+chance--nothing’ll happen. Varley seems to think it may work out that
+way, and the Rainbow Mountain House will just charge the item to profit
+and loss, or breakage, or whatever they choose to call it.”
+
+“That’d be too good luck to come true,” objected Poke, but he went away
+more or less comforted by the suggestion, nevertheless. Certainly, the
+hotel management was in no haste to send its bill. Step maliciously
+hinted that the delay meant merely a heavier charge in the end, but
+Poke’s spirits began to revive as day followed day, and there was no
+word from Rainbow Mountain.
+
+His cheerfulness increased in spite of adverse weather conditions.
+With the lengthening days and the sun higher in the heavens, the snow
+should have been shrinking seasonably, but the sunny days were few, and
+between them came other days, in which the white flakes fell heavily.
+In the town great banks showed on the north side of buildings, while
+the mounds along the sidewalks grew grimy and icy with alternate
+melting and replenishing. From the country roundabout came stories of
+extraordinary depth of snow in the woods and in sheltered hollows.
+Old residents were shaking their heads and recalling tales of spring
+floods. A heavy rain and a sharp rise in temperature would mean streams
+over their banks and perhaps a deal of damage by floods swelled by the
+melting snow.
+
+The boys were not worrying about such possibilities. They were eager
+for the coming of warmer weather.
+
+“We’ve had enough of winter this trip,” the Trojan declared, and the
+others approved the sentiment. Even the Shark fell into line, although
+he insisted that this winter was doubtless very like other winters,
+and began to collect statistics to prove his contention. Presently he
+had some neat tabulations, with averages of snowfall and temperature
+carried out to four places of decimals, and was devoting a fair share
+of his leisure to efforts to secure an audience while he pointed out a
+number of popular errors the figures revealed.
+
+So the days went by, and the weeks, tranquilly enough for the club. Sam
+was studying hard. Once or twice he “did” a lesson with Varley, being
+glad of the chance, indeed, to keep in touch with the older boy.
+
+Varley made no reference to his unintentional breach of the rules
+of the Safety First Club, nor did he give a hint that the Shark had
+enlightened him about his blunder. Sam appreciated his reticence.
+Apology would have been awkward for both of them. Varley was taking
+care to keep away from the club, and ignoring the earlier incident
+seemed to be the easiest and best way to deal with the situation.
+
+Without coming to intimacy, Sam and Paul got on very well together.
+Neither sought the other out frequently, but, as has been said, they
+studied in company now and then, and often strolled along together,
+when they met on the street. So it came about that Varley was a witness
+of Sam’s next meeting with the grateful Mrs. Grant, and played his part
+in bringing about the events which followed that encounter.
+
+A sleigh turning from the beaten track and pulling up beside the deeply
+buried curb; a beckoning hand; a cheerful voice calling briskly--these
+were the circumstances under which Sam became aware that speech with
+him was desired, and recognized Mrs. Grant. Touching his cap, he
+stepped as near the sleigh as the banks of snow permitted. Much of the
+old chagrin because of the lady’s effusive and public thanks for his
+services had worn away; and since the reconciliation with his mates of
+the club there had been times when he regretted that he had not been
+more responsive.
+
+Mrs. Grant, plainly, had been on a shopping tour; for the sleigh was
+piled high with packages. She beamed upon Sam, and stretching out a
+gloved hand, shook his very heartily.
+
+“Now, this is what I call luck!” she exclaimed. “I was just wondering
+where I could find you, and then, quick as a wink, there you are! My,
+but it’s funny how things happen sometimes!”
+
+“Yes, ma’am,” said Sam. “And--er--er--how do you do?”
+
+Mrs. Grant chuckled. “Well, I guess I’m bearing up amazing well, all
+things considered. And I don’t see as you’re getting puny or peaked
+yourself.”
+
+“No, ma’am.”
+
+Her eyes twinkled. “Te he! Didn’t know but you were pining for that
+mince pie I promised you.”
+
+Sam felt his cheeks burn. “I--I--oh, I didn’t mind,” he said confusedly.
+
+“But I did,” said Mrs. Grant crisply. “Somehow I like to keep my
+promises, and I certainly did promise you that pie. When are you coming
+to get it?”
+
+“Why--why----”
+
+“I’ll be ready for you any time. Only the sooner, the better.”
+
+“It--it’s very kind of you.” Sam said it courteously, if a trifle
+brokenly. At the moment his chief thought was to avoid betrayal of his
+feeling in the matter of all mince pies, a feeling which, of a sudden,
+had grown to loathing. But he had had his lesson of the unwisdom of
+permitting a pie to start a quarrel.
+
+“Then I’ll look for you--come now, let’s see!” Mrs. Grant wrinkled her
+forehead thoughtfully. “To-day’s Tuesday--um--um! And to-morrow I’ve
+got to go over to the East Village. Then Thursday’s sewing circle day.
+But Friday--after your school’s out? You can manage to come over to the
+farm easy enough--why not?”
+
+“Why--why----”
+
+“Why, of course you can!” cried Mrs. Grant energetically. “But I say!”
+Her glance went to Varley, who had remained modestly in the background.
+“Sakes alive, but there’s the other boy! The one that tried and didn’t;
+but he meant just exactly as well as if he’d known how--you know what
+I’m talking about, and that’s the time this foolish horse bolted. Bring
+him with you, too.”
+
+“I’ll be very glad to come,” said Varley promptly.
+
+Mrs. Grant was eyeing him shrewdly. “Shouldn’t wonder if we could
+show him some things,” said she. “He looks sort of citified, and
+we’re country--real country--out to Sugar Valley. But that reminds
+me--it’s ’most sugaring time now. ’Twill be, soon’s we get a spell of
+warm weather to start the sap running; and it’s my notion when winter
+breaks, it’ll break quick. Come now! Never seen ’em sugar-off, has he?”
+
+Varley saved Sam the trouble of making answer. “Indeed I haven’t, but
+I’d like to.”
+
+“Well,” said Mrs. Grant, addressing him directly, “I don’t know as we
+can show you the sap running, and the kettles boiling by Friday, but we
+can show you all the works. We’ve got quite a lot of bush and----”
+
+“I beg your pardon! Bush?”
+
+Mrs. Grant laughed. “That’s just a name for it--our name. You’d call
+it a grove, I guess. And there’s an old house where we keep the
+kettles--why, it’s quite an outfit, when you see it all. And I reckon
+you’ll find it mighty entertaining.”
+
+“I’m sure I shall.”
+
+“Then that settles it--Friday it is!” she said with decision, and
+turned again to Sam. “I tell you what! We’ll make a regular party.
+Suppose you bring along half a dozen of your chums--more, if you want
+to. Goodness knows, our old house is big enough to take you all in!
+And let’s see! You can come out right after school, and we’ll have
+dinner--it’ll be waiting for you. And I’ll get that mince pie off my
+conscience. Then Mr. Grant can take you down to the island--it isn’t
+an island, really, but that’s what we call it--and let you see the
+apparatus for making maple syrup and sugar.” She turned swiftly back to
+Varley. “You said it’d be all new to you, didn’t you?”
+
+“Every bit of it.”
+
+“Then I can count on you, too?”
+
+“It’s I that’ll do the counting! I wouldn’t miss the trip for worlds!”
+cried Varley enthusiastically.
+
+His evident delight in the plan swept away any lingering doubts Sam may
+have felt. It wouldn’t be fair to spoil Varley’s pleasure because of
+his own rather vague reluctance.
+
+“Yes, you may count on us, Mrs. Grant,” he said. “And as for more
+fellows--well, I know a crowd that’ll like to come, too. We’ll be
+there--on time--Friday.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X THE BLOW DESCENDS
+
+
+Sam had taken for granted that there would be no parental objections to
+the expedition, and in this he found himself a true prophet.
+
+Mr. Parker not only agreed to the plan, but also showed approval of it.
+
+“A little outing will be good for you, Sam,” said he. “You’ve been
+attending pretty strictly to business lately, and it’s time for a
+break in the routine. By the way, your good conduct marks ought to be
+mounting up handsomely.”
+
+Sam laughed. “Well, sir, I haven’t seemed to have many chances to get
+into trouble.”
+
+“Haven’t looked for them very anxiously, have you?”
+
+Sam’s eye met his father’s, and a trace of red showed in the boy’s
+cheek.
+
+“Safety first, sir!” he said. “You know I’ve had that lesson taught me
+mighty thoroughly.”
+
+Mr. Parker studied his son closely for a moment.
+
+“So? Well, I’m glad to hear the instruction hasn’t been wasted.... But,
+tell me! Find life robbed of a little of its spice, eh?”
+
+Sam paused for thought before he answered; the question was not one
+he could dispose of lightly, especially when it had been put by his
+father. There was a very good understanding between father and son, but
+it had not been arrived at without some grievous experiences for the
+youth. On that account he prized it the more, and desired to maintain
+it.
+
+“Sometimes it does seem as if a fellow missed some fun, sir. I don’t
+know, though--mostly, afterward, I can figure out that everybody is
+better off because the thing wasn’t done--the thing that seemed to
+promise sport, I mean.”
+
+“But there are other things that promise sport, and supply it, and harm
+nobody, aren’t there?”
+
+“Oh, yes.”
+
+“And you’re beginning to discriminate?”
+
+Sam wriggled; he was by no means over-impressed with his own sagacity.
+
+“Why--why, I try to discriminate--that’s the very secret of our Safety
+First idea, isn’t it? Of course, I make bulls--mistakes, I mean--a lot
+of them.”
+
+“Then what?”
+
+“I try not to repeat them,” said Sam simply. “I don’t know any better
+rule.”
+
+“There is none,” said his father decidedly. “And, on the whole, you’ll
+find that if you follow the rule, it still leaves plenty of good, clean
+fun in life as well as a reasonable share of adventure. Not that I
+imagine you’ll run across much of the latter in Sugar Valley, though!”
+
+“It isn’t very likely,” said Sam.
+
+“Well, Lon can drive you over,” said his father. “The big sleigh will
+take you all in. I’ll guarantee it, though I won’t do as much for the
+sleighing. The snow has lasted unusually long, but the season is now so
+late that if it once begins to go, it will go very fast.”
+
+“But there’s such a lot of it,” Sam objected.
+
+“There is an uncommon amount--that’s true. I’ve seen late spring thaws,
+though, when the greater the depth of snow, the faster it seemed to
+vanish. Still, with the amount we now have, it would need fast work to
+clear the ground before Friday.”
+
+“That’s my notion, too, sir,” said Sam, half regretfully. The truth
+was, he was in two minds about the expedition. Considering only his own
+preferences, he might have chosen to stay at home; but there was Varley
+to be taken into account, and Varley undoubtedly was very desirous of
+seeing Sugar Valley. The boys of the club, too, would like to go. All
+of them said so, at once and emphatically. So Sam held conference with
+Lon Gates, who readily promised to have the big sleigh ready; though he
+was far from an optimist when the subject of the weather was broached.
+
+“Take it this time o’ year, Sam,” he explained, “and guessin’ on that’s
+like buyin’ a pig in a poke, only more so. You see, everything’s
+betwixt and between, same’s butter that ain’t quite made up its mind
+whether to come or not. And all the signs are mixed and confusin’.
+Why, jest t’other day I heard two of the oldest inhabitants squabblin’
+over whether the groundhog really see his shadow Candlemas day; and
+’sfar’s I can find out the most reliable goose-bones in town are
+actin’ every which way except alike. But if you insist on havin’ my
+forecast, personal-like, I’m votin’ for a change in weather. I’ve got a
+rheumaticky spot or two that’s been tunin’ up lately; and there was a
+mighty funny lookin’ sunset t’other night. Still, nobody can tell. And
+if you’ll be ready for me Friday, I’ll be ready for you.”
+
+Sam, thus advised, tried to study the weather signs for himself.
+Thursday dawned mild and calm, with a thin haze in the air and a marked
+rise in temperature. The eaves were dripping briskly when he started
+for school, and when he came home for dinner, the snow layer seemed to
+have shrunk amazingly. Where foot travel was greatest the sidewalks
+showed black and bare; puddles formed in low places; the compacted and
+leveled track of the sleighs grew dingier than ever. Throughout the
+afternoon the same conditions held, until with the coming of darkness
+the temperature dropped a trifle, and a thin coating of ice formed on
+the little ponds of snow-water.
+
+“Umph! What did I tell you? Weather breeder!” was Lon’s oracular
+speech, when Sam sought his opinion of the probabilities for the
+morrow. But even Lon declined to commit himself on the sort of weather
+which might be expected. So Sam went to bed little the wiser, and woke
+to find another day seemingly much like that which had gone before,
+still, warm and hazy, with the eaves dripping more merrily than ever,
+the puddles bigger and deeper, and the streets coated with a slush,
+peculiarly damp and chilling in its effect on shoe-leather.
+
+Sam splashed to school, to find that news of his party had reached
+the principal, and had won an unexpected favor--excuses for all hands
+from attendance for the last period of the day. The boon, it appeared,
+had been secured by the Shark, who stood high in the esteem of the
+head of the school, himself a member of the mathematically inclined
+brotherhood. It was thus possible to make an earlier start than had
+been proposed for Sugar Valley. Lon, called up by telephone, was
+agreeable to the change.
+
+“Sure I’ll be glad to get away,” he declared. “Quicker I go, less I’ll
+be wonderin’ if I ain’t a howlin’ idiot not to start on wheels instead
+o’ runners.”
+
+“Then you think----”
+
+Lon cut short the inquiry over the wire. “I think it’s the breakin’ up
+of a hard winter, son. And that’s all I’m capable o’ thinkin’ at once.
+Now, you’d better get busy--I’ve got to.”
+
+Excused a little before noon, the boys hurried home for final
+preparations for their outing. Sam found Lon ready for him. He climbed
+into the sleigh, and off they went, stopping first to pick up Varley,
+and then the Shark. Next they added Tom Orkney, Herman Boyd and the
+Trojan to the party, which now lacked only Poke and Step.
+
+“Try Step’s house first,” Sam suggested.
+
+Lon nodded, and chirruped to his horses, which broke into a brisk
+trot, with much splashing of water from the puddles along the way.
+The sleighing certainly was going fast, but so great had been the
+accumulation of snow that it promised to last out the day, at least.
+
+“Say, Lon, why didn’t you bring a boat?” the Trojan queried, as
+something very like a dash of spray shot over the side of the sleigh.
+
+“Huh! Ark’d been nearer the bill, seein’ the kind o’ load I’m
+freightin’,” Lon responded promptly.
+
+“I guess we’ll find the brooks high,” Herman Boyd put in.
+
+“Bankful and brimmin’ over,” quoth Lon. “Maybe you fellows will have to
+get out and wade before we get back.”
+
+“Well, we’ll risk it,” cried Herman cheerfully.
+
+They turned a corner, and drew up before the Jones house. Nobody was in
+sight about the premises.
+
+Sam raised a lusty hail. “Oh, you Step! Hi there! Hurry up!”
+
+There was no response. Sam called again, still more loudly. The Trojan
+had the knack of putting his knuckles to his mouth and emitting a
+peculiarly shrill and penetrating whistle. He blew it now, quite
+without result. Then the crowd shouted in chorus.
+
+The kitchen door opened. A woman looked out. She waved a hand toward
+the club-house, which, as has been explained, stood in a corner of the
+yard.
+
+“What the mischief----” Sam began, but cut short his speech, and sprang
+to the ground. Orkney followed him. One or two of the others were about
+to imitate the example, but Sam waved them back.
+
+“No; two of us are enough,” he said. “I can’t guess what’s happened,
+but something has. Orkney and I’ll find out. Come along, Tom!”
+
+They hurried up the path to the club-house. The door was ajar. Sam, by
+this time puzzled and a bit alarmed, pushed it open, and looked in,
+Orkney peering over his shoulder.
+
+Both Step and Poke were in the room. They were facing each other,
+though neither appeared to be looking at the other. Poke was slumped on
+a lounge in an attitude of utter dejection, but Step might have posed
+for a picture of absolute woe.
+
+At that moment even a stranger would have understood how Clarence
+Jones came by his nickname; for beyond denial he strongly suggested a
+step-ladder, and a step-ladder folded hastily. As he had picked out the
+lowest chair in the room, his knees seemed to rise to a level with his
+ears, while his long arms dangled till his hands rested limply on the
+floor. His head sagged upon his breast. His lips were moving, and from
+them came mournful sounds.
+
+“Brace up, Poke!... Oh, brace up, I say!... Pull yourself together!...
+It’s certainly awful, but br-brace up, I tell you!”
+
+Never was there more doleful encouragement; but it served, at least,
+to give Sam some clew to the mystery. It was Poke who was in trouble.
+Convinced of this, at least, he stepped into the room, and laid a hand
+on Poke’s shoulder.
+
+“Well, what’s the row?” he demanded. “Must be a big one to keep you two
+from hearing the racket we raised outside.”
+
+Poke slowly raised his head. He stared at Sam, vaguely, blankly. It was
+Step who spoke.
+
+“You--you brace up, Poke! And you--you go away, Sam!... But don’t you
+let it knock you out, Poke! Be a man!”
+
+Sam turned to him. “If you’re going to do the talking, talk sense!” he
+said sharply.
+
+Step waved his long arms tragically.
+
+“Sam, the worst has happened! Poke’s got a letter!”
+
+“Well, what of it?” Sam asked sharply.
+
+“What of it! Why, when I came along just now he had it.”
+
+“Of course he’d have it, if he’d got it. Don’t be an idiot!”
+
+Step’s arms dropped rather more tragically than they had been raised.
+
+“It--it’s spoiled everything for him. And I don’t wonder. But I was
+trying to cheer him up when you came blundering in.”
+
+“Queer cheering!” growled Sam. “And much good you were doing him! Now
+cut this foolishness and come along, both of you. The crowd’s waiting
+outside with Lon, and it’s time we were starting.”
+
+Poke broke his silence at that. “Oh, I can’t go!” he groaned. “I--I’d
+have no heart for it.”
+
+“Shucks! It’ll do you all the more good.”
+
+“Nothing can do him good,” croaked Step; then added, rather
+contradictorily, if with the best of intention: “Brace up, Poke! Pull
+yourself together! Nev--never say die!”
+
+Sam glanced from one to the other. Step and Poke were close chums; the
+sorrows of one were generally shared by the other. He was satisfied
+that the present trouble was really serious, though, as it happened,
+it did not occur to him to hit upon a clew to the mystery by recalling
+Poke’s mishap with the big vase. To tell the truth, that incident had
+rather slipped his mind with the passage of time. Now, though, studying
+Poke, he observed a crumpled sheet of paper clutched in his hand.
+
+Sam bent down. By the exertion of some force he took possession of the
+paper, Poke resisting feebly. Smoothing the sheet, he ran his eye down
+the typewritten page. And, as he read, he whistled shrilly.
+
+The letter was from the Rainbow Mountain House. It was signed by the
+proprietor himself. Its tone was formal and businesslike.
+
+The writer explained the delay by the time which had been found
+necessary to learn the cost of replacing the vase. This point had now
+been established.
+
+“‘We find that a duplicate can be obtained, and invite your early
+attention to the matter,’” Sam read aloud. “‘The expense will be $175.’”
+
+Orkney echoed Sam’s whistle. Poke groaned weakly. Step tore his hair.
+
+“One hundred and seventy-five dollars!” Sam said very slowly. “‘We
+invite your early attention to the matter!’ Wow, but that--that’s a
+sockdologer!”
+
+“He can’t pay it!” cried Orkney. “It’s too much. And if the thing was
+worth so much, it ought to have been kept where it would be safe.”
+
+“That’s true,” Sam agreed.
+
+Poke shook his head sadly. “I’ve got to pay--I said I would.”
+
+“But you can’t raise the money. The whole club couldn’t raise it.”
+
+[Illustration: “YOU CAN’T RAISE THE MONEY”]
+
+“It isn’t the club’s job--it’s mine.”
+
+“Nonsense. All of us were at the dinner.”
+
+“But all of you didn’t smash the vase. I did that myself.”
+
+“And he hates to let his folks know,” Step explained in a stage
+whisper. “You see, things have been--er--er--they’ve been kind
+of piling up on him lately, and his folks--well, they’re getting
+prejudiced.”
+
+“I see,” said Sam soberly. Then he paused, and took thought. “Look
+here, Poke!” he went on. “You, too, Step! I suppose that letter came
+to-day.”
+
+“Yes, he found it when he came home from school,” Step declared.
+
+“Well, it doesn’t have to be answered to-day. You fellows have got to
+come along with the rest of us.”
+
+“Oh, I couldn’t!”
+
+“Oh, we can’t!”
+
+Poke and Step both cried out in protest. Sam’s face grew determined.
+
+“You’ll guess again about that! This is a thing we’re all in, and the
+trip will give us a chance to talk it over. And getting out will do
+both of you a lot of good.”
+
+“But, Sam, there’d be no fun for us,” Step argued. “We’d just be wet
+blankets on the crowd and----”
+
+Now and then a leader has to assert his leadership. Sam had not been
+head of the Safety First Club without learning some of the secrets of
+mastery. He shot a meaning glance at Tom Orkney, who understood, and
+nodded approval.
+
+“Tend to Step, Tom,” Sam said curtly. Then he himself caught Poke’s
+collar, dragged that youth to his feet, and propelled him toward the
+door. Close behind him came Orkney, hauling along the struggling Step
+and paying no attention to his vociferous objections. And so down the
+path moved the little procession, to the edification and amazement of
+Lon and Varley, and the other members of the club, thus recruited to
+its full strength for the expedition to Sugar Valley.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI THE GREAT MINCE PIE OF SUGAR VALLEY
+
+
+Being a youth in full possession of his faculties and powers of
+observation, Paul Varley understood perfectly that there was something
+curious in the fashion in which Step and Poke were loaded into the big
+sleigh; but he was also shrewd enough to perceive that there was no
+intention to let him into the secret. The late comers had been hailed
+impatiently or derisively, but Varley noted that none of the questions
+as to the cause of their delay was pressed. A nudge from Sam or Orkney,
+or a sharp glance, or a muttered word seemed to check inquisitiveness
+immediately. Paul saw, and heeded, and guessed the truth, in part, at
+least. Whatever might be amiss, the other boys regarded it as something
+not to be revealed outside the circle of the club. Satisfied of this,
+he took care to help them along by making talk.
+
+Varley had no difficulty in finding topics. The weather, the clouds,
+the rapidly melting snow, the swollen streams they crossed--about all
+these things he put many questions. The boys, in turn, appealed to Lon.
+What did he think of the prospects, anyway?
+
+Lon squinted at the gray sky, and then at the sloppy road.
+
+“Well, ’less something breaks, we’re goin’ to get there; and if harness
+and runners hold out, we’re goin’ to get home again,” he declared.
+“Dunno’s I’d call it exactly a pleasure trip, but I guess we’ll pull
+through somehow, as the molasses candy said to the sugar bowl. Maybe
+it’ll be sleighin’, and then again maybe it’ll be draggin’ through mud;
+but we’ve got a good, husky team o’ hosses, and if none of the bridges
+takes a notion to go floatin’ down stream, we’ll manage. And further
+deponent sayeth not.”
+
+“But is it going to rain?” Sam persisted.
+
+“Well, wind’s in the east. And if it stays there long enough, squirrels
+and pickerel will be classin’ alike in p’int o’ dampness.”
+
+“But is it going to stay there?”
+
+Lon clucked to his horses; then he glanced at the sky again.
+
+“Huh! I reckon so--sooner or later there’ll be rain. How soon and how
+much? Huh! Bein’ able to answer jest sech questions is how old Noah
+went and got his reputation. And he didn’t leave me his recipe for
+guessin’ right. So I ain’t committin’ myself, sonny.”
+
+Varley laughed with the others; then gave himself to a study of the
+weather conditions. It was not a cheering prospect that met his eye.
+All the winter brilliancy of the landscape had faded; the great blanket
+of snow covering the earth was now a very wet blanket in fact and in
+appearance; the leafless trees towered black and somber. Streams ran
+brim-full. Where there were rapids, they showed clear of ice, and
+along the smoother stretches, where the break-up had not yet come, the
+freshets poured along above the frozen layer as well as below it.
+
+Varley began to appreciate what the “breaking up of a hard winter”
+meant. He wondered, indeed, that Sam and Lon should have undertaken
+a trip on such a day, and then, correctly enough, inferred that they
+were keeping the engagement to visit Sugar Valley, because there was
+no certainty that delay would bring better conditions. In spite
+of the slush and the puddles, the big sleigh was making very good
+time. Satisfied that Lon knew his business, Paul quietly studied his
+companions. Poke and Step were silent and subdued, but the others were
+chatting briskly enough. He suspected a bit of method in this, and
+jumped to a conclusion that was not far from the mark. Whatever was
+amiss with Step and Poke, the club was treating it as a secret, not to
+be discussed before even so sympathetic an outsider as he was himself.
+To tell the truth, Paul admired the new evidence of the strength of
+the bond which held this group of chums. As it happened, he had many
+friends but few intimates; and sometimes he had longed for just such
+close association as the Safety First Club provided.
+
+For a time the road crossed ground with which Varley had some slight
+acquaintance, but then Lon turned sharply to the left and toward the
+narrow cleft in the hills which Sam once had pointed out to Paul as the
+entrance to Sugar Valley. On close inspection the pass was narrower
+even than it had appeared to be from a distance. On both sides the
+rocky banks rose so steeply as to suggest cliffs, while at their base
+flowed the Sugar River, a considerable stream, at least in spring
+time. It was spanned by two bridges, one a gaunt steel structure
+carrying railroad tracks, the other a covered highway bridge, of the
+old-fashioned wooden construction. Both these bridges were close to
+the mouth of the glen, and their piers seemed half to fill the space
+between the banks of the river. The water was swirling merrily about
+the masonry, against which from time to time little floes of ice dashed
+with a fine crash; a ragged fringe of fragments lined the banks; the
+air was full of spray of a peculiarly chilly and penetrating quality.
+The boys dug their chins into the collars of their overcoats as the
+sleigh dragged across the bridge.
+
+“Whew! Talk about your cold storage plants!” cried the Trojan--and that
+was what all of them thought.
+
+Then a twist in the road showed them that the valley broadened widely,
+with ranges of low hills on either hand. Near the river they saw a
+series of natural terraces, which a fanciful eye might have regarded
+as suggesting shallow benches of a great amphitheatre. The hills were
+wooded, and so was part of the lower ground, with dense swamp growth
+here and there. The road hugged the base of the hills to the left.
+Evidently it was much traveled, though there were few houses in sight.
+Lon offered explanation of this.
+
+“Big farms along here, mostly. Been owned by the same families pretty
+nigh ever since Adam and Eve came to the jumpin’ off place. Don’t quite
+believe that, eh? Well, then, I’ll compromise, and make it since the
+white folks came into this deestrict. But above here a piece there’s
+quite a settlement. The Grants, though, belong down here in the old
+settler class. Old Nahum Grant, he was one of the fust white men to----
+But, hullo! There’s the house now!”
+
+The boys looked in the direction in which his whip pointed. They saw a
+comfortable farmhouse, big and roomy, and flanked by huge barns. Then
+they were turning in at the gate, and pulling up before the house,
+and the door was opening, and Mrs. Grant, more beaming than ever, was
+bustling out to greet them.
+
+“My soul and body! but it does me good to see you all!” she exclaimed.
+“Take a mopey, draggly day like this, and I didn’t know whether you’d
+sorter back out about coming way out here. But you didn’t--and there’s
+quite a lot of you. My, my, but I’m tickled! There haven’t been so many
+young folks at the old place since I don’t know when!”
+
+“Yes, ma’am, we’re all here,” Lon made answer. “That is, unless
+three-four fell out of the sleigh a mile or two back. With a load like
+this a feller really ought to stop and take account of stock ’bout once
+in so often.”
+
+“Bless me, if ’tain’t Lon Gates!” cried Mrs. Grant delightedly. “I vow,
+but it’s a sight for sore eyes!”
+
+“Same to you, ma’am, and three or four times over!” Lon responded
+gallantly. Then he surrendered the reins to a farm-hand, who came from
+the barn, and stepped to the porch, where Mrs. Grant was shaking hands
+with the boys, duly presented in turn by Sam.
+
+Mr. Grant came out of the house to join in the welcome to the visitors.
+He was a thin, elderly man, with a wisp of gray whisker, a quiet
+manner, and an eye which had a humorous twinkle. Then he and his wife
+shepherded the party indoors.
+
+Paul Varley glanced about him curiously. The low ceilings, the
+home-made rugs on the floor, the kerosene lamps, the many rocking
+chairs, the big horsehair covered lounge--these things quite matched
+his expectations, but there were other things which jarred them. The
+piano in a corner of the great living-room was a handsome instrument;
+the gilded coils of a very modern steam radiator suggested that the
+wide fireplace now served ornamental rather than useful purposes.
+There were thriving plants at the windows, and on the center table
+lay a number of magazines and illustrated weekly papers. Against one
+wall stood a tall clock, which drew Paul like a magnet. His father
+was somewhat of a collector, and the son had picked up some bits of
+information about ancient timepieces. This one, unless he were much
+mistaken, was very valuable.
+
+“My great-grandfather made that,” Mr. Grant explained. “That is, he had
+it made.”
+
+“To order?” Paul asked.
+
+Mr. Grant chuckled softly. “It was very much that way. A friend of his,
+who went to England, brought back the works at his request. Then a
+traveling cabinet maker and jack-of-all-trades put the case together,
+according to his ideas. Oh, yes, the journeyman and journeying mechanic
+was an institution of those days; he’d make you a chest of drawers, or
+a table, or a clock case, or anything else. So great-grandfather picked
+his trees, and cut his lumber, and sawed his boards, and had the wood
+thoroughly seasoned when the jack-of-all-trades came around to build
+just such a clock as he wanted.”
+
+Paul nodded. “It seems to have been mighty good work, sir.”
+
+“That was a way they had,” said Mr. Grant. “They didn’t have so many
+things then that they could afford to put up with slipshod work.” Then
+he turned to the Shark, who had marched up to a framed map, hanging
+near the clock, and was peering at it through his spectacles.
+
+“There’s an odd heirloom, young man. Know what it is?”
+
+“Of course,” said the Shark crisply. “Relief map--I’ve seen the big one
+of the whole state in the capitol.”
+
+“Right! But this just shows Sugar Valley.”
+
+“So I see,” quoth the Shark quite as crisply as before, and continued
+his study. The map was like a carving, depressions being represented
+by gouges in the wood of which it was made, and tiny ridges showing
+the terraces before one came to the greater elevation of the bordering
+hills. The course of the river and its tributary brooks could be very
+clearly followed. The Shark ran a finger along one of the curving
+levels, an action which caught the attention of Mrs. Grant. Instantly
+she was beside him.
+
+“Well, did you find any?” she demanded; her tone was hardly tart, but
+it was tinged with suspicion.
+
+“Of course I did,” said the Shark. “I knew it’d have to be there.”
+
+Thereupon Mrs. Grant promptly caught his hand and peered quite as
+closely at the tip of the exploring finger as the Shark had peered at
+the map.
+
+“Nonsense! There isn’t a particle!” she cried indignantly.
+
+“There is,” said the Shark bluntly. “Feeling is often more accurate
+than sight, and I felt it distinctly.”
+
+Mrs. Grant gasped. “Goodness gracious, boy! Your mother must be one of
+those miracle housekeepers to bring you up to notice such things!”
+
+“Eh?” The Shark, in turn, was bewildered, but luckily bethought him of
+his manners. “Excuse me, Mrs. Grant, but--but we can’t be talking about
+the same thing.”
+
+“I’m talking about dust!”
+
+“Oh!” There was relief in the Shark’s tone: also there was a little
+impatience. “Dust nothing! What do I care--er--er--I mean I was pretty
+sure there was a minor water-shed right there, but I had to feel to
+make certain. The light, you know, is not very strong; hence the chance
+of error of vision is increased, and----”
+
+Mrs. Grant’s laugh cut him short. It, too, betrayed relief.
+
+“Ha, ha, ha! And I thought, if there’d been any error of vision, it
+must ’a’ been mine, when I dusted yesterday! And I don’t make my brags
+about some things, but if anybody can find dirt----”
+
+There she checked herself, and laughed again. “Mercy me, boys, hear me
+run on! But I’m like everybody else; I’ve got my prejudices, and if
+you get me started---- There, there! I’m starting, but I’m starting
+myself. And what you’re really thinking about, I’ll warrant, is dinner,
+for you’ll be hungry as bears--or boys--after your ride. I never could
+see much difference--between the bears and the boys. Not that I knew
+any bears real well, but I did get acquainted with a lot of boys, and
+they’d act sometimes a good deal the way folks say bears’ll take on,
+especially about meal time. But ‘error of vision’--and what was that
+other thing--‘minor water-shed,’ wasn’t it? Somehow, the boys I’ve
+known didn’t talk much about such things.”
+
+“Oh, that’s just the Shark’s way, ma’am,” Sam hastened to explain.
+“You see he’s a crackerjack at mathematics, and it’s all he cares for.
+That’s why we call him the Shark--he gobbles up problems so! And when
+he saw that funny map, he couldn’t help figuring what it meant.”
+
+“He figured one thing correctly, at any rate,” said Mr. Grant. “There
+is a water-shed there, for there’s a spring, and the overflow drains
+north.”
+
+“Well, there’ll be time enough for surveying talk, or whatever you call
+it, after dinner,” his wife interposed decidedly. “Come on, everybody!
+The things are on the table.”
+
+The boys streamed into the dining-room, and took the places their
+hostess pointed out. Varley was again unobtrusively observant. This
+room, like the other, was big and cheery, with plants at the windows. A
+huge sideboard, set on curiously slender legs, ran half the length of
+one of the walls. Above it was a shelf on which stood a fine old clock.
+The table was very long; long enough, indeed, to accommodate all the
+party, including Lon, who took his chair quite as a matter of course.
+The cloth was fine and snowy white; the china and glass good, though
+a bit miscellaneous in design. Varley was clever enough to understand
+that the Grants evidently were very comfortably well-to-do, and this
+was borne out by the hospitable profusion with which the board was
+spread. There was set before Mr. Grant a huge platter, piled high with
+chicken fried a wonderful brown. There were mashed potatoes, and beets,
+and onions, and other vegetables; there was a wholesale supply of apple
+sauce and cranberries, and half a dozen kinds of pickles. There were
+supplies of bread and butter for a small regiment, and tall pitchers of
+milk, with a steaming urn of coffee, over which Mrs. Grant presided.
+A ruddy and somewhat agitated maid hovered about her mistress, with
+whom she exchanged stage whispers frequently, followed by raids upon
+the pantry and replenishment of this or that dish. It was all very
+informal, very jolly, and, above all, very, very good. There were
+certain flaky biscuits, which captivated Paul, and of which he consumed
+more than he liked to keep count of; though nobody seemed to bother
+on that score. Twice his plate went back for more chicken, following,
+be it said, the example set by other plates. The ride had sharpened
+appetites, which were healthily developed, anyway; the blandishments
+of Mrs. Grant were hardly needed to persuade her guests to prove
+themselves mighty trenchermen.
+
+In that hospitable warmth good fellowship reigned. Step threw off his
+burden of care because of Poke’s misfortune, while Poke himself roused
+to a somewhat subdued cheerfulness. There might be dark trouble ahead,
+but for the present he gave himself to the good things of the moment.
+
+Sam was as merry as the others, but a shadow of apprehension fell upon
+his face when Mrs. Grant rose and slipped into the pantry, whence
+proceeded sounds of her whispered conference with her assistant. Sam,
+of a sudden, had warnings. He had almost forgotten that long-promised
+mince pie; now he recalled it, with remembrance of the anguish of mind
+it had caused him and wonder if it was to put him to further ordeals.
+Luckily, he had not long to wait in uncertainty. The pantry door
+swung. Appeared Mrs. Grant personally bearing the famous pie, the maid
+escorting her.
+
+And what a pie it was!
+
+Lon’s admiring exclamation was no more than deserved tribute. “Great
+Scott, Mis’ Grant, but you sure done it this time! I’ve been brung
+up with pies, and I thought I’d seen all kinds they was, but I never
+clapped eyes on an old he-one like that! Jupiter crickets!”
+
+Now, in truth, it was a great pie, an enormous pie, a pie of
+dimensions, baked in the biggest dish any of the boys had ever seen
+so used; a dish deep and wide. And it was a pie crowned with a gently
+rising dome of crust, tinted with the rich brown which bespeaks perfect
+cooking. Mrs. Grant set it on the table; the maid came, bearing a pile
+of plates. Knife in hand, the hostess paused to address the company.
+
+“Boys, I can’t make a speech, but I’m going to tell you something. It’s
+kind of a family tradition of the Grants--a mince pie is. Why, way back
+in the days of Dominie Pike----”
+
+“Dominie Pike!” It was the usually silent Tom Orkney who spoke, and his
+voice had a queer trace of excitement.
+
+Mrs. Grant turned to him. “Why, yes--the Grants claim descent from him.
+But what’s the matter?”
+
+Tom went a fiery red under the gaze of the company. “I--I--oh,
+nothing’s the matter,” he stammered confusedly. “Only the name--it’s
+odd, you know, and--and----”
+
+Mrs. Grant nodded briskly. “Does sound odd these times--‘Dominie Pike.’
+And I guess he was an odd stick himself, for all he was a minister
+and mighty close to a great man. But you’re waiting to hear what he
+has to do with mince pies--the Grant kind. Well, I’ll tell you. Once
+he came back, nigh starved and poor as Job’s turkey after one of his
+trips in the woods with his Indian friends. Never heard about his
+chumming around with the old chiefs? Well, he did, and they thought
+a sight of him. But that ain’t the story I’m telling. You see, he’d
+been away a long time, and supplies at home were running mighty low.
+And his wife, she’d got most desperate. So what did she do, but take
+all the scraps and odds and ends she had--and they were about all she
+did have, I guess--and make ’em into a pie. And it turned out nearer a
+mince pie than any other kind. And just when it was done and cooling,
+and the children were licking their lips and rubbing their poor
+little tummies, home comes the Dominie out of the woods. And he sees
+that blessed pie, and he descends upon it like a wolf. And he eats it
+all, every crumb. And everybody’s so glad to see him alive nobody says
+anything to warn him that he’s putting away the family’s dinner--and
+supper, too, I reckon.
+
+“And finally he pushes back the plate, and sits quiet for a minute. And
+then he looks at his wife, and his eye sort of twinkles. And he says in
+his way--and it was a good deal of a way he had, by all the stories--he
+says: ‘Wife, as you well know, I hold not with the pomps and vanities.
+But, for sustenance and nourishing qualities, yonder pastry appears to
+me to have possessed certain worthy qualities. So I do advise that in
+the event of good service by any of these children here present, they
+be reasonably rewarded with a pie like this one.’
+
+“And that’s the story that has been handed down in the family; and
+that’s the reason we’ve set great store by our mince pies as rewards
+of merit. And so, when Master Sam Parker”--here she beamed on that
+youth--“when he did me a very good turn, I just naturally made up my
+mind to treat him by the Dominie Pike recipe. Sometimes I’ve wondered
+if he didn’t think a mince pie was a funny medal, but now he knows--and
+you friends of his know--why you’re facing this mince pie, and why I
+expect you to treat it the way the old Dominie treated his. If you
+leave a crumb of it, I shan’t like it one bit--so there!”
+
+“Oh, you won’t be disappointed!” Sam cried hastily. “It--it’s a
+beautiful pie. And--and I like the story that goes with it,” he added
+after the briefest of pauses.
+
+Mrs. Grant gave him a glance of understanding. “Well, now, I thought
+you might,” she said. “Boys are funny--you never can tell how
+things’ll strike ’em. And a pie--even a mince pie--might worry some
+of them, if it was a--a--well, a present, you know, and meant for
+sort of a good conduct badge, and so on. And if they didn’t take it
+right--why--why----”
+
+Then Sam spoke with decision and emphasis. “Don’t you worry, Mrs.
+Grant,” he said. “This bully pie is going to be taken right!”
+
+The lady’s broad-bladed knife drove through the crust of the great pie.
+
+“Have those plates ready, Hannah!” she warned the maid. “And don’t
+forget the whipped cream--no, nor the maple fluff.” Again she glanced
+at her guest of honor. “Which will you have with the pie? Maybe,
+though, you’d like both.” With practiced hand she was removing a
+huge sector and placing it upon a plate. “Both, did you say? They go
+together very nicely.”
+
+Two big glass bowls had been set beside the monster pie, one filled
+with cream beaten to a delightful fluffiness, the other with something
+very pleasing to the eye and suggesting to Varley a light caramel.
+
+“I’ll try both,” said Sam valiantly.
+
+“Good for you!” exclaimed his hostess. “That’s one comfort of having
+boys around, though. When you take extra trouble to please ’em, they’ll
+meet you half-way. They’ve got real appetites, and they know what to
+do with them. Now, I don’t believe Dominie Pike had whipped cream with
+his pie, but that was his misfortune and not his fault. And as for the
+maple fluff--well, we set great store by that in Sugar Valley, which
+wouldn’t have been called so if it wasn’t for its maple sugar.”
+
+Paul Varley spoke a bit impetuously: “Oh, maple sugar? After dinner we
+may see how it’s made, mayn’t we?”
+
+Mrs. Grant nodded briskly. “Indeed you shall! The sap isn’t really
+running yet, but we’ve got all the fixings.... Quick! More plates,
+Hannah!” She was serving the dessert with dextrous speed. “Don’t wait,
+boys!... And you’ll have both trimmings, won’t you?” She now was
+addressing Poke. “Excuse me if I can’t keep all your names straight,
+but you look as if you might have a sweet tooth.”
+
+“Yes, ma’am, both, if you please,” said Poke heartily. For the moment,
+at least, he had quite forgotten his sorrows.
+
+Mrs. Grant beamed upon him. “That’s what I like to hear! Give me good,
+lusty boys every time!... And it’ll be both for you, too, won’t it?”
+she asked, turning to Step.
+
+The elongated youth quite matched Poke’s heartiness. “Yes, ma’am, both
+will do very nicely.”
+
+Lon Gates chuckled. “Oh, he can stand it, all right. Some folks is
+built to stow it sideways, and some to stow it up and down.”
+
+“And some take care of it both ways, eh?”
+
+“Yes’m, that’s me,” quoth Lon, quite unabashed. “’Specially when it
+comes to Sugar Valley mince pies,” he added gallantly.
+
+It was a deserved tribute. Every boy at the table was ready to vow that
+never had there been another mince pie to match the toothsome marvel of
+Sugar Valley cookery, composed and baked for the honor and delectation
+of Sam Parker and his friends.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII EXPLORING THE VALLEY
+
+
+Probably everybody notices, from time to time, how things which would
+seem to be trifling in themselves bring about results which are
+anything but trifling. Paul Varley’s interest in sugar making was to
+prove a case in point.
+
+If Varley had not been with the Safety First Club that day, it is
+altogether likely that the trip to the maple groves would have been
+omitted. The big dinner, with Sam’s wonderful mince pie as its climax,
+left the Grants’ guests very well pleased with the world in general but
+not at all disposed to exertion, especially as the weather showed no
+improvement. Back in the great living-room the party settled down in a
+semicircle before the open fireplace, where now a cheery little pile of
+birch was blazing.
+
+“We’ll have it for company, anyway,” Mrs. Grant explained, as she
+touched a match to the kindling. “The steam keeps us warm enough--and
+some to spare--days like this, but I must say I like the sparkle and
+crackle. Kind of sociable like, ain’t it?”
+
+“Yes’m--makes me think of a lively widow next door!” chuckled Lon.
+
+“Hm-m! Don’t see as you’ve got any call, Lon Gates, to make jokes about
+widows,” said Mrs. Grant with spirit. “None of ’em’s got you yet.”
+
+“Well, you never can tell, ma’am. I’m young yet.”
+
+Mrs. Grant shook her head, half reprovingly. “I believe you are, Lon.
+Still, I remember when----”
+
+“When I could eat a meal like these youngsters have just stowed away,”
+Lon put in. “Yes’m, yes’m; that’s so. But I’ll say this, ma’am: I
+didn’t get many such chances in my time to treat myself like an
+anacondy snake same as these youngsters have.”
+
+“Nonsense! They’ve just nice, wholesome appetites.”
+
+Lon chuckled again. “Well, maybe you’re right, at that. Fillin’ a
+growin’ boy is a good deal like pourin’ water into a sieve. But jest
+for the time bein’, I’d say, you’ve got this crowd full to the brim.”
+
+The Shark rose rather jerkily, and walked up to the profile map. He
+regarded it with a fascination like that the ill-omened vase at the
+hotel had had for Poke. Mr. Grant joined him.
+
+“My father made that,” said the farmer. “You see, it was this way: One
+winter he was laid up with a broken leg, and wanted to have something
+to keep him busy. He’d done some work on the big map at the state
+house--he was a surveyor, among other things, you understand--and it
+struck him he’d fix up this affair for our valley. It happened he’d run
+levels all over it, and had his records; so he had plenty to go by. And
+they do say this is amazing accurate. Why, when the government men came
+through here a few years back----”
+
+“I know--they mapped all this region,” the Shark interrupted. “Computed
+elevations, set monuments, all that sort of thing.”
+
+“Well, they found father had hit mighty close to the mark. And their
+monuments--that’s your word for ’em, eh?--you can find three-four of
+’em scattered around. Mostly they’re on the hills, but down by the
+river they set one on a little rise. If ’twa’n’t for the snow you could
+find it easily.”
+
+The Shark ran his eye over the map. “The valley’s really like a big
+bowl,” said he, meditatively. “And that’s a mighty narrow outlet--place
+we came through, where the bridges are--more like the neck of a bottle.
+I should think the ice would jam there. Then if there should be a
+flood--say, things would happen!”
+
+“So they would. But the big dam up above’ll hold, I guess. You see,
+years ago there was a scheme to turn the whole valley into a reservoir,
+but it’d have taken more money than the folks could raise. So they went
+up-stream a few miles, and put in their dam there. But we ain’t had any
+floods in Sugar Valley, for all the mouth of it’s like the mouth of a
+bottle, as you were saying.”
+
+“Exactly!” quoth the Shark, but kept his gaze upon the map. “And so
+there is a government marker down by the river--on a little rise?
+Wonder if it isn’t about there?”
+
+Mr. Grant looked at the spot to which the Shark pointed. “You’ve hit it
+close, young man,” he declared.
+
+A very slight, but very satisfied, smile lessened the severity of
+the Shark’s expression. “I felt pretty sure I had,” he remarked
+complacently.
+
+Mrs. Grant turned from poking the fire and mounding the birch logs to
+her fancy.
+
+“No; we don’t have floods often in Sugar Valley,” she observed, “though
+anybody might think we would. Somehow, the river takes care of the
+water. Of course, ’way back in Dominie Pike’s time, they did have some
+amazing freshets--he told about ’em in his diary, you know.”
+
+Tom Orkney bent forward. “Then you’ve seen the diary, ma’am?” he
+inquired eagerly.
+
+Mrs. Grant laughed. “Bless your heart, no! It disappeared years before
+I happened along.”
+
+“Oh!” There was a disappointment in Tom’s tone, which didn’t escape
+Mrs. Grant’s attention.
+
+“It is an awful pity!” she said. “The Dominie, I guess, put down ’most
+everything that happened, and if folks could find his book now, they
+could settle a lot of points they’re disputing. But seventy-five or
+eighty years ago people didn’t set such store by old things--they were
+too glad to get new ones, maybe--and so lots of stuff was lost that
+would bring high prices nowadays. Why, the diary just knocked about,
+as you might say--or part of it did. Mr. Grant’s grandfather always
+insisted that the Dominie filled three or four note-books, and that the
+one folks saw--that’s the one, by the way, all the stories told now
+are based on--why, he always argued that that was the last, or next to
+the last, of the set. ’Tis a fact it didn’t tell much about the very
+earliest days of the settlement--I’ve heard that point spoken of. But,
+anyway, it passed from hand to hand in the family, and was borrowed by
+neighbors, and got all thumbed and dog-eared, and worn and tattered;
+and, finally, it just dropped out of sight. Too bad, but that’s what
+happened.”
+
+“Nobody copied it?” asked Tom.
+
+“Why--why, yes and no. Nobody copied it all--nobody thought it worth
+the trouble in those days. I’ve seen in old letters lots of references
+to it and its stories, and once or twice I’ve come across short
+quotations from it. But there’s another mix-up--in trying to find out
+about it now, I mean. You see, along about 1800 there was a Grant who
+was a great practical joker, and sort of a bookish fellow, too; and,
+somehow, the combination set him to writing a burlesque diary. It was
+about people of his time, but he imitated the Dominie’s style, and he
+was a clever hand at it; and what with most of the family names around
+here being the same as in the Dominie’s day and the imitation being so
+good--well, after a while even folks who’d read both got sort of mixed
+as to what was in which. So now nobody really knows where truth ends
+and jokes begin in half the traditions of the town. What makes it worse
+is that the Grant diary disappeared, too. Very likely the man who wrote
+it destroyed it, when he got older, and took a more serious view of
+life.”
+
+“Oh!” said Orkney again. There was still disappointment in his tone.
+
+“We’ve looked high and low for both books, of course; but I guess
+they’re lost for good. This valley, you know, was where the Dominie
+settled. He gave it the name it’s had ever since--Sugar Valley. That
+was because he found the Indians here were making sugar. Mighty poor
+stuff it was, probably, and more than half dirt. But it was sweet,
+and real sugar was hard to get. Maybe that was one reason the Dominie
+stayed here, and built a cabin, and then a house, and finally a better
+house. Oh, it was quite a mansion, that last house of his was--a sort
+of show place, though I guess there weren’t many people to show it
+to. But it was made of sawed boards instead of logs, and there was a
+wonderful great chimney, and the fireplaces were as big as some rooms
+are nowadays. Yes, and one of the up-stairs rooms had a fireplace; and
+that, I guess, was a sort of eighth wonder of the world--this part of
+the world, anyway. But here I am, talking as if you couldn’t see the
+place for yourselves, if you want to.”
+
+“Then it still stands?” Orkney asked.
+
+“Indeed it does! Nobody has lived in it for years and years, but it’s
+still there--nearly a mile from here, and close to the river. Of
+course, it’s rickety, but it doesn’t tumble down, and I don’t see any
+signs that it’s likely to. Once or twice we’ve talked about restoring
+it, and fixing it up, but we’ve never got around to do it; though some
+folks say we ought to turn it into a sort of historical museum. But, as
+I say, we haven’t got to it. And as for exploring the old place--why,
+why--a miserable day like this----”
+
+Mrs. Grant hesitated. As she chanced to be looking at Varley, it was he
+who made answer to her unfinished question.
+
+“Oh, another time will do just as well. And it was the sugar making
+that we’d especially like to see, you know.”
+
+“You’re interested in that, then?”
+
+“Very interested; it’ll be all new to me. And--and”--Paul smiled
+engagingly--“and your maple fluff, Mrs. Grant, was awfully good. It
+made a fellow all the more anxious to find out about the flavoring.”
+
+Mrs. Grant was pleased, and showed it. “So you liked it, then? Well,
+’tis kind of tasty, though there’s really nothing to it but whipped
+white of egg, and just a mite of cream, and a dash of maple. But put it
+on mince pie----”
+
+“Geeminy, but it’s cracking good!” Step interrupted.
+
+“Why, I’d call it grand,” quoth Poke solemnly, and licked his lips
+reminiscently.
+
+Then Mrs. Grant laughed. “Ha, ha, ha! I vow, but there’d be some
+satisfaction in cooking for a lot of folks like you boys! But if you
+want to see where the maple comes from--why, I don’t want to turn you
+out in the wet, but you ought to be looking around while the light’s as
+good as it’s likely to be this day. And so, if Mr. Grant is ready, and
+you’re ready to start--why, that’s just what I’d do if I were you.”
+
+Now, probably there was nobody concerned--except Varley, of course--who
+wouldn’t have been willing to omit the expedition. But Paul was
+genuinely interested, and so evident was this fact that none of
+the others were willing to offer objection. Caps and overcoats and
+overshoes were brought out and donned, and with Mr. Grant in the lead
+the party streamed out of the house.
+
+“Don’t stay too long!” Mrs. Grant called after them. “My, but it’s
+getting to be weepy weather! Well, I’ll have something warm and
+comforting waiting for you when you come back.”
+
+“Weepy weather,” indeed, fitted the case. The air was milder than ever,
+and more charged with moisture. Eaves were dripping, and little streams
+trickled down the trunks of the trees; under foot the melting snow lay
+in a dwindling, soggy mass. What was more, a thin drizzle was falling,
+hardly to be called a rain, but curiously searching and penetrating in
+its dampness.
+
+Mr. Grant glanced at the leaden sky, and shook his head.
+
+“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say things were going to be worse before
+they’re better,” he remarked. “Way the wind’s been hanging in the
+east----”
+
+“More southeast, ain’t it?” Lon inquired.
+
+“In-between. Vane on the barn ain’t hardly wiggled all day. And it’s
+pointing right to where our big rains hail from. Funny we haven’t had
+it harder. Up-river they’ve been getting a reg’lar downpour, accordin’
+to what they’re telephoning.”
+
+“Umph!” said Lon. “Then you’ll be havin’ a sight o’ water for this
+river o’ yourn to take care of, won’t you?”
+
+“Well, it’s done just that every spring,” said Mr. Grant.
+
+“Mebbe. Only I’ve got kinder a notion from the feel o’ things that
+there’s a reg’lar weather buster brewin’.”
+
+“My notion ain’t so far from yours,” Mr. Grant agreed. Then he turned
+to the boys. “We’ll take a look at what we call the ‘Island’--that’s
+where we make most of our sugar. Got some trees tapped already, though
+the season ain’t really begun yet. But it’ll be easier to show you than
+to tell you about it. So come along!”
+
+They followed him, in Indian file, along a well-beaten path through
+the snow, a path that wound and twisted to avoid groves and patches of
+thicket. The floor of the valley seemed to be almost level, after the
+descent from the natural terrace on which the house stood; but, plainly
+enough, not much of the land was under cultivation. Except for the fact
+that their course was generally toward the river, the boys had little
+idea of their destination, and Sam, with the teachings of Safety First
+in mind, remarked to himself that here was a stretch of country in
+which a fellow might very easily lose his bearings. Not that he had any
+thought of danger. Even if anybody lost his way, temporarily, he could
+steer for the hills and so, sooner or later, come to higher ground and
+the road. So he trudged along, digging his chin deep in his upturned
+collar, and making the best of unpleasant conditions.
+
+Sam noticed, presently, that one at least of his companions was showing
+signs of losing heart. Poke had started out near the head of the line,
+and, comforted by food and warmth, had appeared to be in excellent
+spirits. Very soon, however, the melancholy weather had its effect.
+Probably it reminded him of his gloomy prospects and the staggering
+bill for the big vase. At any rate, his steps lagged. One after another
+passed him, until he was the last straggler in the line. As it proved,
+he was far behind the rest of the party when they came to the “Island.”
+
+As has been said, this was not an island, but a low knoll, covered by a
+fine growth of maples. On one side stood a small building, half house,
+half shed; and here was an equipment of great kettles for “boiling
+down” the collected sap. There was an orderly pile of new cans, in
+which the syrup would be shipped, and there were boxes awaiting the
+sugar, to which part of the yield of the grove would be reduced.
+
+“I hear they’ve got a lot of newfangled modern improvements,” Mr.
+Grant remarked, “but we stick to the old ways. Of course, we ain’t
+big producers and shippers, but we manage ’most every season to do
+something of a trade. And now I’ll show you how we do it.”
+
+With that he took Varley in hand. He displayed the little spouts which
+were placed in holes in the maple trunks, and along which the sap ran
+to pails. Then he showed big buckets, into which collectors emptied
+the contents of the pails, and which brought their gallons and gallons
+of the thin sap to the kettles, there to be reduced in volume and
+increased in density until the required standard for syrup was reached.
+
+“This isn’t a big plant,” he explained, “but, after all, we’re pretty
+busy around here, when things get going. Fires have to be kept up,
+and sap has to be brought in; and of course it’s a short season,
+at the best, and so there has to be a hustle. When the sap starts
+running--why, we have to run, too.”
+
+“Then it hasn’t started yet?” Varley asked.
+
+“It’s starting--the warm spell sets it going. But ’tain’t a full flow
+yet. You can see we’ve got some trees tapped”--he pointed to a near-by
+part of the grove--“and if a freeze don’t come to check things, we’ll
+be in full swing a good deal quicker than I’d care to be. Somehow,
+I don’t like the looks of the weather, or the feel of it, for that
+matter.”
+
+Varley was quite ready to agree with Mr. Grant on this score. The
+dismal day was growing more dismal still; the drizzle was heavier; the
+dense gray clouds seemed to hang lower. The other boys, to whom a sugar
+camp was an old story, were huddling in the lee of the house. Varley
+noticed that Poke, most sorrowful of face, was in low-toned talk with
+Step, who seemed rapidly to be becoming as melancholy as his chum. Then
+Sam joined the pair, and the whispered conversation went on, with no
+sign of rising spirits.
+
+Varley was clever enough to make a shrewd guess at the situation.
+Doubtless, sooner or later, he would hear all about it, but just now
+the club was keeping its own counsel. So he remained near Mr. Grant
+until the latter was called into the house by his hired man, who seemed
+to be unable to find a big ladle, of which he announced himself in
+search.
+
+Left alone, Paul took note that the Shark, who was peering at the lower
+ground about the “Island” and mumbling to himself in dissatisfied
+fashion, appeared to be on the point of starting on some small
+expedition of his own. Paul crossed to him.
+
+“What’s up?” he inquired. “Looking for something?”
+
+The Shark merely grunted.
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“The marker.”
+
+“Eh?” Paul had not been especially impressed by the map or the talk
+about it.
+
+“Can’t you hear?” snapped the Shark. “Marker, I said--marker the
+government surveyors left. Bet you I know where it is!”
+
+“Oh! do you?” said Varley, a little vaguely.
+
+The Shark snorted. “Huh! Sure I know--if the survey and the map match.
+Ought to be out there.” And he pointed into the mists toward the river.
+
+“Oh, had it?”
+
+“Of course it had! And I’m going to find it.”
+
+“I’ll help you,” said Varley readily.
+
+“Shucks! You don’t know how,” said the Shark bluntly.
+
+Varley was good-natured. Moreover, the youthful mathematician appealed
+to his sense of humor.
+
+“Well, maybe you can show me how.”
+
+“That’s so,” the Shark admitted.
+
+“Then I may come along?”
+
+“If you’d like to,” quoth the Shark, half-grudgingly, and started off.
+
+Varley followed him. Mr. Grant and his helper were still in the house,
+and the other boys were grouped about Poke. None of them, as it
+happened, observed the departure of the two.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII THE SHARK DEMONSTRATES
+
+
+Varley splashed after his leader. No other word would quite describe
+the sort of journey he made at the heels of the Shark; for as soon as
+they had descended from the slight rise of the “Island,” and come to
+the lower levels, they encountered many evidences of the rapid progress
+of the thaw. Probably even in summer there was more or less swampy
+ground hereabouts; but now water from the melting snow stood in shallow
+pools, through which the Shark marched unconcernedly. He was wearing
+big overshoes, with tops of waterproof cloth buckled tightly about the
+bottoms of his trousers, and appeared to give no more thought to the
+puddles underfoot than he gave to the rain.
+
+Paul had a somewhat different equipment, inasmuch as he was shod in
+leather only, but leather prepared by some new process for rough wear
+and guaranteed to be water-tight. So far the new shoes--they laced
+well up his legs--had seemed to meet the guarantee, but he began to
+wonder if they would continue to do so. Certainly he was putting them
+to an extreme test, as, for that matter, he was testing the qualities
+of his heavy outer jacket. Indeed, he smiled more than once to himself
+as he thought how curiously unlike his city experience it was to be
+trudging along on such a day, and in such a place, and, it may be
+added, in such company. For the Shark surely was an odd stick. He
+hardly opened his lips as they tramped along, but Varley found him
+entertaining, for all that.
+
+Thick clumps of undergrowth here and there prevented a march in a
+straight course, and also so narrowed the field of view that Paul had
+small notion of the direction they were taking. The Shark, however,
+went along quite as if he were on familiar ground. To be sure, he
+glanced about him frequently, but with an effect, almost, of picking up
+landmarks; and, presently, quickening his pace, headed straight into a
+hedge-like line of bushes, forced a passage through them, and gave a
+grunt of satisfaction.
+
+“Ugh! Hit it about right. Not too far up--that’s the main thing.”
+
+Paul overtook him, and halting, as he had halted, looked out upon the
+Sugar River. It was a sizable stream at all times, but now, swollen by
+melting snow, it was a river of imposing proportions. It was running
+almost bank full. There was a great deal of ice coming down-stream; the
+cakes, in some cases, were like small floes. The current was swift,
+and the cakes ground and grated together savagely. Moreover, the water
+was of a muddy color, which could have had nothing to do with its
+temperature, but which, for some reason Paul didn’t understand, made
+him shiver.
+
+“Whew! I’d hate to have to take a dip in there,” said he.
+
+The Shark nodded absently. He was giving a moment to studying the
+opposite bank.
+
+“Of course--too cold.... Be too cold for two months yet,” he added.
+
+Varley pushed the collar of his coat higher. If he were not mistaken,
+the rain was increasing. Funny how sight of that yellow, rushing river
+made everything seem more dismal than ever, he reflected.
+
+Somewhere in the dim distance the Shark made out what he had been
+looking for.
+
+“Um-m! That’ll be it--highest ground anywhere around. Now, if I can
+get a line----” He broke off the sentence, and, turning, stared in the
+direction in which, by Varley’s hazy reckoning, lay the Grant farmhouse.
+
+“What are you up to?” Paul inquired.
+
+“What do you s’pose?” countered the Shark testily. “Think I’m looking
+for birds’ nests?”
+
+“Oh, no,” Varley answered humbly; just then he was not disposed to
+controversy. His tone was not lost upon the Shark, who said, quickly
+and almost apologetically:
+
+“Oh, I say! ’Tisn’t as if you knew more--er--er--as if you were better
+posted, I mean. Ought to have thought of that! But I’m getting my
+bearings. And I _am_ getting them, too.”
+
+“Your bearings?” Paul repeated, doubtfully. “Then you’ve been here
+before.”
+
+“Never in my life. Saw that map, though, didn’t I?”
+
+“The map? But--but you didn’t commit it to memory, did you?”
+
+“Only the most important part of it,” said the Shark simply. “Few of
+the elevations--that sort of thing. They were marked down plain as
+print.”
+
+“I didn’t notice ’em,” Varley confessed.
+
+The Shark’s lip curled. “Huh! What do you have eyes for?” Then he
+recalled that the other was in a sense a stranger and a guest. “I
+mean, it’s a mighty good scheme, when you see figures, to jot ’em down
+in memory. Then, if you’ve got nothing else to do, you can have fun
+thinking ’em over and setting yourself little problems with ’em. Now,
+this valley’d fool you. Lot less slope to the floor of it than you’d
+suppose. And the way the hills line up--say, though, didn’t notice
+that, either, did you?”
+
+“I--I guess I didn’t.”
+
+“It would have paid you. That government marker we’re looking for is
+right between the two highest hills--one on each side of the valley.
+That is, it is, if the map’s accurate. So far, everything’s working
+out all right. I schemed on hitting the river a little below the real
+point and working up, and I think I’ve done it. Now let’s get along.
+Ready?”
+
+“After you,” said Varley.
+
+“Good!” cried the Shark, and off he set, not keeping to the bank of the
+stream, but bearing away from it on a long diagonal.
+
+Varley pursued him. By this time there could be no doubt that the rain
+was heavier. Underfoot, even where there were no puddles, the snow was
+a clammy mush of penetrating chill. Varley began to suspect the worth
+of that guarantee of his new shoes. Very gladly he would have turned
+back, had he been alone; but, being with the Shark, he followed his
+leader, who plodded on, giving no heed to rain or snow. Again they came
+to clumps of brush, and made detours about them. At intervals the Shark
+halted briefly, scanned his surroundings, grunted and went on. Varley
+felt sure they were getting far from the island, though he would have
+been put to it to make an estimate of the distance.
+
+The Shark began to slacken pace. His halts for observation were more
+frequent and longer. Once or twice he even turned back briefly, working
+over ground they had crossed a moment before. Varley saw that a frown
+was on his face.
+
+“Are we--are we ’most there?” he inquired solicitously.
+
+“Huh! Ought to be.”
+
+Varley cast a glance about him. “I don’t see anything of that--that
+marker, you called it, didn’t you?”
+
+Very deliberately the Shark removed his spectacles, and pulled out a
+handkerchief. He cleared the lenses of moisture, set them before his
+eyes, peered--or tried to peer--at the hills. But the thickening rain
+hid them.
+
+“Huh! Closing in, ain’t it?” he growled.
+
+“It surely is!” Varley agreed.
+
+“Then I’ll have to depend more on dead reckoning. Let’s see! Um--um!
+Allowing for the---- Look here!” The Shark whipped about to glare at
+his companion. “Look here! Don’t suppose that map’s inaccurate, do you?”
+
+“I don’t know.”
+
+“Well, I’m going to know--and know mighty quick,” said the Shark
+grimly. “That marker ought to be within a hundred yards--no, within
+fifty--of where we are this minute. Maybe there’s snow over it. Still,
+it ought to show--way the stuff’s melting and going off, you know.”
+
+Varley said “Yes,” because he did not know what else to say. He was
+about to add that it was raining a lot harder, when his comrade gave a
+shout, and, darting across the little open space in which they chanced
+to be, dropped on his knees beside an object just protruding from the
+remains of a snow bank. With frantic haste the Shark tore away the
+heavy snow, revealing a low stone post, bearing a cryptical, chiseled
+inscription, of which Varley could make nothing. But the Shark was
+raising a shout of jubilation.
+
+“Bully for us! Bully for the map! It’s all right! We’re all right! Say,
+ain’t this cracking good sport, Varley?”
+
+Paul tried to feign friendly enthusiasm, but he was too damp to be very
+successful.
+
+“It--it’s wonderful. Why--why--why, you didn’t know anything about this
+place except what that map told you, and you came straight to--to where
+you wanted to come! I--I never heard anything like it!”
+
+The Shark patted the stone with a demonstrative affection Varley hadn’t
+dreamed he was capable of displaying.
+
+“Bully old rock! Sure you’d be here, where you belong! Oh, but I say!
+This is just the greatest sport outdoors!”
+
+“But I don’t see--the marker wasn’t shown on the map--it was put in
+long after the map was made--I don’t understand----”
+
+The Shark interrupted Varley’s broken speech.
+
+“Of course! But naturally it would be put about here by the government
+men. If you’d taken a good look at the map, you’d have seen why. You’d
+get the line. Then Mr. Grant as good as pointed out the spot. After
+that it was just a case of getting the bearings in your head and
+keeping them there--easy as falling off a log, wasn’t it?”
+
+“It seems to have been easy for you,” Paul confessed. “But--but now
+that this is done, what--er--er--what do you want to do next?”
+
+“I don’t care--anything,” shrugged the Shark.
+
+A dash of rain drove into Paul’s face, and gave a hardly needed hint
+of the desirability of shelter.
+
+“It’s getting pretty damp,” he said. “We ought to go back, or find some
+cover till there’s a let up in the shower.”
+
+“Oh, all right,” said the Shark carelessly. “Just as you please--’tis
+getting to be quite a rain, eh?”
+
+“Yes, it is. And it’s going to be a good deal of a tramp.”
+
+Thereupon the Shark squinted at the leaden sky.
+
+“Umph! Doesn’t show signs of clearing, I must say. Still, the weather’s
+the weather, and what we know about it doesn’t make an exact science.
+Maybe there’ll be a lull. Meanwhile, I suppose we might as well make
+for the house.”
+
+“You mean the Grants’ house or the sugar camp?”
+
+“Neither. There’s another, nearer by.”
+
+“Oh!” said Varley, and, in spite of him, the doubt in his tone was
+manifest.
+
+“Case of map again,” quoth the Shark. “House indicated somewhere ’round
+here. Course, I didn’t pay the same attention to it that I would to
+something that really mattered. But if you’d like to hunt it up, I’m
+willing enough to hunt with you.”
+
+“I’d very much like to!”
+
+The Shark glanced about him. He furrowed his brow reflectively.
+
+“Let’s see, now! Farther along it was. Yes, and off to the left, I
+should say--away from the river, that is. Um, um!... Hullo! What’s
+that?”
+
+The “that” had been a sound, faint and far off, but easily to be known
+as the whistle of a locomotive. Varley said as much, and said it a bit
+testily; the rain was seemingly growing heavier every minute, and he
+was becoming impatient to seek shelter.
+
+“Umph! I knew that, too--any chump’d know it,” growled the Shark.
+“But was it from a main line engine or one of the old machines on the
+branch?”
+
+Paul stared at him. “What difference----” he began hotly; then changed
+his tone. “Say, you don’t mean to tell me you know all the engines by
+their whistles?”
+
+“No; not all of ’em--my ear isn’t true enough,” the Shark confessed. “I
+know a fellow, though, who can spot every last one as far as he can
+hear it. He’s got absolute pitch.”
+
+“Eh?”
+
+“If he hears a sound he can tell you what’s the note--something like
+that, anyway. Bully thing to be able to do! Still, you don’t have to
+have the knack to get a lot out of music. I’m going in for music, by
+the way, when I have time.”
+
+“Oh!” said Paul, dubiously. Somehow, the Shark never had suggested to
+him one of musical tastes. “So you’re going in for it? Oh, yes! And
+it’ll be--er--er--violin, or piano, or--or----”
+
+“Shucks, no!” The Shark’s lip curled scornfully. “What’d I want to play
+anything for? And tunes? Bah! I can’t tell one from another. And what’s
+the use of bothering to learn to play one instrument, when you can have
+a whole band going for you by just starting up a phonograph? But they
+tell me there’s really some good stuff under it all--real mathematics,
+I mean, when you get into counterpoint, or whatever it is they call it.
+So I’m going to take it up when I have a little leisure.”
+
+“Oh, I see--I get you,” said Paul. Then he was reminded by another
+dash of rain that this was hardly a time for gossip in the open. “Now,
+though, how about that house?”
+
+“Well, we’ll look for it,” said the Shark; and set off in the direction
+in which he believed the building to be.
+
+Paul followed him. He noticed that his guide went more slowly than
+before, and that he veered from left to right, and then from right to
+left, as if desiring to cover a wider strip of territory. The brush
+was not especially dense, but it was thick enough to limit the field
+of view, so that often it was impossible to see more than a few score
+yards ahead. Suddenly, however, the Shark pulled up.
+
+“Huh! That’ll be the place, I guess,” he announced.
+
+Paul made out dimly the line of a roof; but what with the rain, and the
+trees, he could do little more than make it out. It was not, in fact,
+until he and the Shark were close to the building that they obtained a
+fair view of it.
+
+The house, evidently, was very old. So much could be guessed from the
+mossy roof and weatherbeaten walls. Midway of the ridge-pole rose a
+squat and very thick chimney. In front the house showed two stories,
+but in the rear the roof ran in a great sweep from the ridge-pole to
+within a couple of feet of the tops of the ground-floor windows. There
+was no porch, and, indeed, the house was most severely plain in all its
+outlines.
+
+“Huh! Old timer,” the Shark observed. “And nobody home!”
+
+Presumably it had been a good many years since anybody had been at
+home there. Still, the place was not utterly neglected in appearance.
+The stout shutters at the windows were closed, and the front door was
+boarded up; what was once the front yard had been kept clear of brush.
+
+Varley surveyed the premises with a feeling of helplessness; they
+seemed to offer no more shelter than was given by the leafless boughs
+of the trees.
+
+“No; nobody home!” he echoed.
+
+The Shark grunted. “Ugh! Say, ’tis getting to rain!” One might suppose
+from his tone that this was a fresh discovery.
+
+Varley nodded. As he did so, the motion sent a shower of drops flying
+from the visor of his cap.
+
+The Shark gave a moment or two to consideration of the weather signs.
+Then he shook himself much in the manner of a dog emerging from a pond.
+
+“Huh! Can’t say it looks like clearing. Still, you never can tell. So
+long’s we’re here, we might as well crawl in somewhere out of the wet,
+and wait a while.”
+
+“Where’s a place to crawl in?”
+
+The Shark stepped up to the door and gave a tug at the boards. They
+were tightly nailed.
+
+“Huh! Nothing doing there,” he reported.
+
+“Nothing doing,” Varley repeated dismally. His courage was good enough,
+but he was becoming acutely conscious of the physical drawbacks of the
+situation.
+
+The Shark tried the nearest shutter. Its rusty catch proved obstinate,
+but at last gave way, and the shutter swung, revealing the small panes
+of the window. One or two were broken. Quite coolly the Shark smashed
+another, and cautiously thrust a hand through the opening.
+
+“What! You’re going to break in?” Varley demanded.
+
+“I sure am! If I can find the thing that fastens this window!” quoth
+the Shark. “No other way--that is, if we mean to get inside. We can pay
+for any damage we do afterward, but just now our business is to get
+somewhere out of the wet.”
+
+A sharp increase in the downpour--and by this time it undeniably
+was a downpour--served to emphasize his words. Varley sprang to his
+assistance, and the Shark finding the nail which had served as a lock,
+their united efforts contrived to raise the lower sash. The Shark
+climbed and wriggled, and Varley boosted so energetically that at last
+the explorer shot through the opening and into the dimness of the room
+beyond. He was up in a minute and stretching out a hand to his ally,
+who lost no time in climbing after him.
+
+“Whew! What faded-out air!” gasped the Shark.
+
+“Yes; it’s all of that!” Varley agreed.
+
+Indeed, the room was close and stuffy, as rooms long closed are likely
+to be. But it was a dry, if musty, closeness, a deal better than the
+wetness of out-of-doors. The Shark shook himself again.
+
+“Gorry! Say, but this beats the other thing,” he declared. “Bet you
+that window hasn’t been open, though, in ten years; though the folks
+seem to have kept a lot of furniture here.”
+
+Varley peered into the shadows. He could make out the shapes of a
+settle and a table, and something he took to be an ancient chest of
+drawers. Also he was quite sure there was a fireplace. Cold and black
+as it was, it drew him like a magnet. He started across the room, and
+now the Shark followed instead of led.
+
+“Now look--I’ve the luck to have a box of matches along,” said he. “If
+we can find something to burn we----”
+
+There he broke off, as Varley uttered a startled exclamation.
+
+Beneath the feet of the explorers was an ominous creak. It turned
+swiftly to the grating sound of breaking wood. The floor sagged; the
+old boards parted. The boys, clawing vainly for support, shot down
+through the aperture into a cellar, which was like a pit for blackness.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV THE HUNT
+
+
+“I tell you, it’s the only way. Don’t you suppose I’ve figured and
+figured on what to do? Well, I have; and there’s just one answer. I
+can’t dodge it, and I won’t try. I’ve got to pay up, and I will pay
+up--somehow.”
+
+Poke said it bravely enough and determinedly--all except the last word.
+The “somehow” came after a little pause, and dragged at that.
+
+“But you can’t!” blurted the Trojan. “You’ve just told us you couldn’t
+raise the money.”
+
+Poke had his back against the wall of the sugar camp; literally and
+figuratively he was like one making a last stand.
+
+“But I’ve got to raise it--somehow.” Again there was the brief pause;
+again there was a catch in his voice. “I’m responsible; I smashed that
+vase. I didn’t mean to smash it, but that makes no difference.”
+
+“Umph! I’m not so sure of that,” objected the Trojan.
+
+“That’s what I say, too,” Step put in. “Seems as if there ought to be
+some way----”
+
+“What! To wriggle out of it?” Poke demanded indignantly.
+
+“Why--why--I--I wouldn’t exactly----”
+
+“It’s what you meant, all the same.”
+
+“No; ’tisn’t!” Step insisted.
+
+“Well, then, what did you mean?”
+
+“Why, I--well, it’s sort of hard to put into words, but----”
+
+“Yes; I guess it is hard,” Poke interrupted.
+
+Then Sam Parker stepped forward. He had not been taking a very active
+part in the discussion, but had been listening intently.
+
+“Hold on, fellows!” said he. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. I suppose
+we had to talk this thing out, but now we’ve done it. All hands know
+what’s happened to Poke and why he’s so down in the mouth. We’re sorry
+for him, every one of us, but there’s no use crying over spilt milk or
+broken vases; and so----”
+
+“Hey! Who’s crying?” Poke protested.
+
+“Oh, that’s just a figure of speech,” said Sam. “Forget it, Poke!
+Let’s get down to business, everybody. Now, I’m not so all-fired sure
+Poke really ought to pay all that money. The vase ought to have been
+in a safer place, if it was so valuable. And I think that’s Varley’s
+notion, too; and he’s sort of posted, as you might say, about a lot of
+things.”
+
+“Oh, Varley!” exclaimed Poke, and glanced about him a little
+apprehensively.
+
+“Varley’s out of the way,” Sam went on. “I guess he understood the club
+would want a chance to hold a council of war, for he could see that
+something had gone wrong, even if he didn’t know just what it was.”
+
+“The Shark’s missing, too,” Herman Boyd remarked.
+
+Sam nodded. “So he is. Probably they’ve strolled off together. That’s
+all right, though. The Shark will stand for anything the rest of us
+decide to do. It’s a job for all the club, of course, and----”
+
+“How do you make that out?” Poke asked.
+
+“Easily enough. You broke the vase--that’s true. But you wouldn’t have
+broken it, for you wouldn’t have been at the hotel or giving a dinner
+if it hadn’t been that you wanted to square the club’s account with
+Varley.”
+
+“Now you’re talking sense, Sam!” cried the Trojan.
+
+“I know I am. And it’s only sensible for us to treat this thing as
+hitting the whole club.... That’s all right, Poke! You can say it
+hit you first, but we feel it hit us afterward. So we ought to pull
+together, and we will. Now if we all chip in----”
+
+“I can put in ten dollars,” said Tom Orkney promptly.
+
+“Gee! Wish I could do as well!” cried Herman Boyd. “Maybe, though, I
+can scrape together five or six dollars. I’ve sort of run ahead of my
+allowance, or I’d promise more.”
+
+“I’m in the same box with Herman,” the Trojan declared.
+
+Step coughed uneasily. As the especial crony of Poke, he really should
+be taking a leading part in these measures of financial relief.
+
+“Ahem, ahem! I--I--er--er--course you fellows know where I stand. And
+I’d give my eye-teeth to help Poke out of the scrape. But it just
+happens I’m awfully short of cash. But I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll
+subscribe as much as the next fellow, and I’ll put it in, if only I can
+borrow it somewhere.”
+
+“All right,” said Sam hastily, and shook his head warningly at the
+Trojan who was beginning to grin.
+
+Again Step cleared his throat. “Ahem! Poke’s folks don’t want to hear
+about this, you understand--that is, we don’t want ’em to hear about
+it. You see, what with one thing and another lately--well, things have
+been breaking mighty badly for Poke at the house--things that weren’t
+really his fault, if you’d look at ’em right, but that just kept piling
+up on him. And so--well, this isn’t any time for more bad news to
+arrive.”
+
+“I should say not!” groaned Poke soulfully.
+
+Sam had been doing some mental arithmetic. “Look here, everybody! With
+what I can chip in, and what the Shark’ll do, I feel sure we can raise
+sixty or seventy dollars. That ought to be enough for sort of a first
+payment.”
+
+“But I ought to make the payment,” Poke insisted.
+
+“You can’t,” Sam told him bluntly. “That’s why we’re going to help you.
+And we’ll gain a little time for you to look around and scheme out ways
+to get the rest of the money.”
+
+In spite of this prospect of problems to come the face of Poke
+brightened a trifle. But it quickly clouded again.
+
+“Oh, I say, you fellows!” Poke said sharply. “I’m ready to take help
+from any of you, or from all of you--as a loan, of course; I’ll pay you
+back--but Varley must be kept out of this! It--it isn’t his funeral.”
+
+“Right-o!” Sam agreed.
+
+“No; this is our party--he’s an outsider!” chimed in the Trojan.
+
+The others nodded approval. Here was a matter purely for the Safety
+First Club.
+
+“Then we’ll call so much settled,” quoth Sam. “But, talking about
+Varley, where is he?” He peered hard at the grove of maples, and turned
+again to his companions. “I haven’t a notion where he can be, or the
+Shark, either.”
+
+“Oh, I guess they’ll turn up soon enough,” said Step. “Nowhere else for
+them to go, is there?”
+
+“Not in this rain.”
+
+“Rain!” The Trojan caught at the word. “Rain! Sam, you’ve said it! It’s
+coming down, good and plenty. And ain’t it funny we were all so busy
+with Poke’s affairs that we didn’t notice it?”
+
+This was quite true. So absorbed had the club been that no heed had
+been paid by any of the boys to the steady increase in the rain.
+
+Again Sam glanced about. “I don’t believe we ought to stay here any
+longer. It’s going to be a job to get back to town, and we ought to be
+making a start.”
+
+As if in answer to a call, Mr. Grant came out of the camp.
+
+“Whew! but this is getting to be a reg’lar wet spell,” he remarked.
+“And I don’t see any signs of a let-up. Too bad you boys should strike
+such a day to visit Sugar Valley!”
+
+“We’re sorry, too, sir,” Sam assured him.
+
+Mr. Grant looked the group over. “Let’s see! All here, are you?... No;
+must be two-three missing. What’s become of that little chap with the
+glasses and the other fellow who wanted to know all about sugar making?”
+
+“They must have gone back, sir.”
+
+“Umph! Don’t know but they did the sensible thing. I hadn’t realized
+how it was getting to rain.”
+
+“We didn’t notice, either. And as for Varley and the Shark--that’s our
+nickname for the fellow with the glasses, you know--I suppose they must
+have started for the house?”
+
+Sam made his statement more than half a question. Mr. Grant treated it
+as one.
+
+“Yes, I guess they must have. They’d looked around here, and there
+ain’t much to see except the camp. Yes; I dare say they’re toasting
+their shins by the fire this minute. And I reckon we might as well
+follow ’em.”
+
+Nobody was disposed to delay; nor, for that matter, was there any
+lingering on the way to the farmhouse. Heads bowed to the storm,
+collars turned high, hands buried in pockets, the party splashed across
+the fields with Mr. Grant in the lead.
+
+Mrs. Grant was ready to receive them. She took absolute command the
+moment they entered the door.
+
+“Get out of your wet things this instant, every one of you!” she
+ordered. “Hannah, you take the overcoats and hang ’em up by the kitchen
+stove. And you boys, you get over by the living-room fire. Mercy me!
+but you’re as sopping wet as our old cat was the day he fell into the
+cistern. And don’t be afraid to take off your shoes and dry ’em--wet
+feet’s the worst thing that can happen; and I’m not going to have your
+mothers think I let company manners help give you all colds. Yes, and
+don’t be bashful about pulling off your socks if the water got through
+to ’em. And Hannah, oh, Hannah! Run up-stairs and bring down some of
+Mr. Grant’s socks--bring enough to go ’round. They’ll be a mite roomy,
+maybe, but that won’t matter. And bring along all the slippers you
+happen to see.... Eh, eh? What’s that, now?” Sam had put a somewhat
+anxious inquiry when the lady paused an instant for breath. “The
+others, you say? Aren’t they here? No, they’re not. But which ones do
+you mean? Let’s see! Let me take tally.... Oh, I see now. You mean
+that queer little one I thought was looking for dust on the map, and
+the other boy--the nice, polite one--not that you aren’t all polite, of
+course!” she concluded hastily.
+
+Sam’s face lengthened. “We missed them,” he explained, “but supposed,
+of course, they’d started back together.”
+
+Mrs. Grant shook her head vigorously. “If they started, they didn’t
+get here. And that’s funny, too; for how could they miss the path? But
+don’t you worry! They’ll come straggling in pretty soon, I warrant you.
+And they couldn’t come to much harm anywhere in Sugar Valley. So just
+you sit down and make yourself comfortable while you wait for ’em.” And
+she gave Sam a friendly push toward the fire.
+
+Sam drew his chair close to the hearth, where most of the other
+boys already had taken their places. Both the light and warmth from
+the blazing logs were cheering, and the spirits of the party were
+improving rapidly. Thanks to heavy outer jackets, and high overshoes,
+they had come through their experience better than anybody unused
+to rough weather outfits might have supposed to be possible; but it
+was comforting, nevertheless, to toast for a little before the fire.
+Then Mrs. Grant, who had her own theories as to the wants and tastes
+of boys, brought in a huge dish of doughnuts and another of crullers,
+while Hannah bore a great pitcher of lemonade.
+
+“Just a snack, you know,” the hostess declared. “A bite or two to tide
+you over and take away that tired feeling.”
+
+In view of the tremendous dinner, this luncheon might have been thought
+a little premature, but every member of the Safety First Club then
+present helped himself to a doughnut or cruller, and did this most
+willingly. Poke, in spite of his sorrows, especially distinguished
+himself; but even Sam was no laggard in performance. Still, his sense
+of responsibility for all of the party wasn’t dulled.
+
+The rain was falling more heavily than ever--of this he could be sure
+from its beating on the windows. Mrs. Grant, too, was observant of the
+weather.
+
+“Boys,” she declared, “you can’t drive back to town this afternoon in
+that open sleigh. Why, you’d be drowned out! I just won’t let you go.
+Be no trouble to take care of you over night. My, but this old house
+has room enough for as many more, and then a few extras.”
+
+“Thank you, ma’am, but I think we’d better go back,” said Sam.
+
+“Fiddlesticks and fiddledeedee! ’Twon’t make a mite of bother to us to
+keep you over night. And I vow I just thought of it! I want you to stay
+and try Hannah’s waffles for breakfast--waffles with maple syrup, of
+course.”
+
+At that Poke sighed, audibly and longingly. Step grinned, and the
+Trojan laughed outright. Sam, though, was serious.
+
+“We really ought to be starting. If only those other fellows were
+here---- But how does it look, Lon? Any signs of clearing up?”
+
+Lon, who had just returned from a weather observation from the porch,
+shook his head.
+
+“No; closin’ in thicker’n ever. And rainin’ to beat the cars!”
+
+“What did I tell you!” cried Mrs. Grant triumphantly. “Of course you’ll
+stay here all night. The traveling now would be awful.”
+
+“Wal, ma’am, that depends on what you’re used to,” Lon remarked
+calmly. “Old Noah, now, he might say this was jest layin’ the dust
+nice and comfortable. Or a hornpout might call it pretty fair goin’.
+But for folks that ain’t had sich advantages of experience or nat’ral
+capacity--wal, I guess it’s safe to figger they would call the
+travelin’ jest about awful, as you was sayin’, ma’am.”
+
+“But we ought to go back,” Sam insisted.
+
+“Yes; I reckon we ought,” Lon agreed, but with no heartiness.
+
+“Nonsense!” declared Mrs. Grant.
+
+Sam went to a window, and peered out. He saw nothing to cheer him, and
+turned back, with an anxious frown on his face.
+
+“What in the world can be keeping Varley and the Shark? And where can
+they have strayed?”
+
+“Oh, they ought to be along presently,” Mrs. Grant comforted. “Two
+able-bodied, wide-awake boys won’t come to harm in Sugar Valley.”
+
+“No, ma’am,” said Sam mechanically, but his expression of anxiety did
+not lessen. The afternoon was wearing away. In an hour or two more the
+light, not too strong now, would be fading; and the night promised to
+be as black as one’s hat. And, meanwhile, the Shark and Varley ought to
+be turning up!
+
+“They won’t come to harm,” Mrs. Grant repeated emphatically. “But, all
+the same, they ought to be here. Just wait a minute, though.”
+
+Out of the room she hurried, and, presently, there was the call of a
+telephone bell from the hall. Sam impatiently awaited the results.
+There was a considerable delay. Evidently Mrs. Grant was talking with
+more than one of her neighbors over the wire.
+
+When she came back to the living-room, her expression bore a trace of
+perplexity.
+
+“I do declare, but it’s amazing queer! Nobody, up the road or down, has
+seen anything, or heard anything, of those two boys. And I did suppose
+that they’d put in somewhere, to wait for a let-up in the rain. But
+everybody along here is on the line, and I’ve called ’em all, and
+nothing comes of it.”
+
+Sam glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid something’s gone wrong,” he said.
+“Varley’s sort of a tenderfoot, and the Shark--well, he’s posted well
+enough, but he’s as likely as not to get to figuring on something, and
+then how can you tell what he’d do, or not do?”
+
+Step spoke sharply. “Say, there’s the river! It must be high, and if
+either or both of them fell in----”
+
+He had no need to finish the sentence. Mrs. Grant uttered an
+exclamation; the boys moved uneasily; even Lon seemed to be impressed
+by the suggestion.
+
+“Great Scott, but we’d ought to thought o’ that sooner! Any boys is
+footless, sometimes, and if you’d tried to pair up a queer mated
+couple, you couldn’t ’a’ picked a more uncertain combination o’
+performers than the Shark and that Varley lad’d make.”
+
+“That--that’s so, Lon,” Sam agreed heavily.
+
+Mrs. Grant took the floor again. “Don’t get flustered! I’ve got an
+idea. Wait, everybody, till I see how it can be worked.”
+
+Once more she hurried into the hall, and again there were sounds to
+indicate that she was busy at the telephone. Ten minutes passed--and to
+Sam they seemed to be very dragging minutes--before she returned, and
+addressed him.
+
+“Well, I’ve made a good beginning on the idea, all right. I’ve called
+up your folks in town, young man, and I’ve had a talk with your mother.
+She understood things--I knew she would, for I guess she’s a good,
+sensible woman, seeing the sort of son she’s got. And she saw at once
+what an awful trip back you’d have. And she said I could keep you over
+night, and she’d call up all the other mothers and let ’em know you
+were all right. And so that part of it’s fixed. Now we come to the next
+part. You’re so uneasy about those strayaways that you’d be hopping
+around like corn in a popper if you couldn’t go hunting ’em. And I
+guess I’d be hopping, too, if you weren’t trying to find ’em. For they
+ought to have shown up long ago. And with Mr. Grant to help, and the
+hired man--why, we ought to be able to know something mighty quick. So,
+if that’s your idea, too, and if you’re ready----”
+
+“If!” Sam shouted, and sprang to his feet. “If? Why, ma’am, I’ve been
+aching to go for the last hour!”
+
+“Well, I guess you ain’t lonesome in that,” said Mrs. Grant briskly.
+
+The other boys, and Lon and Mr. Grant, for that matter, had risen
+almost as quickly as Sam himself.
+
+Mrs. Grant looked the group over, and nodded approvingly.
+
+“No; there ain’t a lagger in the lot,” she said with conviction. “And
+there’s just one thing I don’t like about it; and that is that Hannah
+and I can’t go along with you.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV THE HOUSE OF REFUGE
+
+
+Paul Varley was sorely shaken by his plunge into the depths of the
+ancient cellar. He struck its floor so heavily, indeed, that the breath
+seemed to be driven from his body.
+
+For a little he lay, motionless and half stunned. Then, his brain
+clearing, and, be it said, his general sense of numbness giving place
+to a number of distinct aches and pangs, he groaned, raised himself on
+an elbow, sat up, and tried to peer about him.
+
+The movements had accentuated the pains. Paul groaned again. Even at
+that moment, though, the greatest of his troubles was the gloom in
+which he found himself.
+
+Except for the pale patch of light above his head, indicating the
+break in the flooring of the room he had first entered, everything
+was in darkness; not an even darkness, but patchy, lumpy, with weird
+suggestions of shadowy and grotesque shapes.
+
+Experimentally Paul drew up a knee, and found that the joint was
+in working order. He stretched out his arms. One of them was lame
+and sore, but he appeared to have escaped broken bones. Encouraged
+slightly, he tested his other leg, closing the test with a vigorous
+kick. His foot encountered an obstacle, and a voice spoke in the
+darkness.
+
+“Hi there! What do you think you’re doing?”
+
+It was a startled voice, and a wrathful voice. The sound of it gave
+Paul an instant of dazed bewilderment. His wits were working, but
+he hadn’t recalled the circumstance that he was not alone in his
+misadventure.
+
+“Oh!” he gasped. “Oh--oh, you’re there, then?”
+
+“Naturally!” The Shark’s tone was no milder than before.
+
+“And--and are you hurt?”
+
+“Huh! What do you suppose?”
+
+“But--but are you?”
+
+“There are some statements,” said the Shark grimly, “which should not
+need to be made. That’s one of ’em.”
+
+“I’m mighty sorry. I--I ought to have known.”
+
+The contrition in Varley’s tone had its effect.
+
+“Huh!” grunted the Shark, but less aggressively. “Huh! Certain causes
+are bound to produce certain results. I’m hurt--yes. I’m all banged up.
+But thank the stars! the worst didn’t happen. I haven’t broken ’em.”
+
+“Your legs, you mean?”
+
+“No; my glasses!” snapped the Shark. “I’m like a bat if anything
+happens to them.”
+
+“I understand. But how about the rest of you--the legs and arms, I
+mean?”
+
+There was a brief pause, as if the Shark might be taking account of
+stock, so to speak.
+
+“Well, I’m lame in one foot or ankle--can’t be sure which,” he
+reported. “And I’m sore in one shoulder--must have landed on it.
+Otherwise, though, I guess I’m all right. I--ugh! Say, that hurt!”
+
+By hearing rather than by sight Varley knew that the Shark was
+getting upon his feet. He followed the example; also he imitated the
+exclamation.
+
+“Ouch! Whew! Say, I’ve got my troubles, too.”
+
+There was a moment’s silence; then Varley spoke again:
+
+“It’s queer--I don’t know what’s the matter, but I--I’m sort of dizzy,
+and--and choking, and--and----”
+
+“It’s getting me, too,” the Shark agreed. “Hold on, though! I’ve got an
+idea.”
+
+There was the faint click of the catch of a metal match-box. Then a
+tiny flame showed. By its feeble light Varley made out what were the
+vague shapes that had seemed like heavier shadows, piles of old barrels
+and boxes, the usual accumulation of odds and ends in a cellar. Then
+the sickly flame died down.
+
+“Humph! That’s it, fast enough,” said the Shark. “Bad air--like the
+air in a well or a cave that’s been closed up. Match won’t burn in it.
+Guess we’d better get out.”
+
+Varley was beginning to have difficulty in breathing.
+
+“Great Scott, but I--I never was in such a place!” he panted. “So
+close--so stuffy--so sour--so--so----”
+
+“Sure! Bet you there hasn’t been a window or door of this cellar opened
+in my time or yours. And not nearly enough air’d seep in to keep it
+sweet. And as for getting out--well, I guess we’d best go the way we
+came.”
+
+With that he put his hands above his head, and groped for the edge of
+the broken flooring. Luckily, the ancient cellar was not deep. The
+Shark failed to get a grip, but Varley, who was taller, succeeded where
+he failed.
+
+“Give me a leg up,” Paul directed, and the Shark obeyed. The effort
+was painful. Plucky fellow though he was, he couldn’t quite repress
+a groan. Varley uttered another, and another, as he raised himself;
+bettered his hold on the ragged ends of the boards; found them fragile
+as well as ragged; tore away fragments of the rotten wood; gained the
+stouter support of a beam, which appeared still to be sound; called
+upon the Shark for renewed and redoubled effort; exerted all his waning
+strength, and, at last, slowly and with difficulty, drew his body to
+the comparative safety of the floor.
+
+Apparently most of the remaining boards were still sound enough to
+support his weight, though they creaked dismally, while he bent down
+and extended a helping hand to the Shark.
+
+It was a fortunate thing for the young adventurers that the Shark was
+light. Varley, as it was, found his work cut out for him, especially
+as both he and his companion still felt the effects of the foul air of
+the cellar. By dint of their utmost joint endeavors the Shark finally
+half climbed, half was dragged, through the opening. Then he tried
+to struggle to his knees, but pitched forward and lay helpless and
+exhausted. Varley, in almost as grievous plight, laid hold upon his
+collar and began to drag him toward the window.
+
+Experiences were crowding thick and fast upon the city youth, but he
+was rising to the emergency and proving the mettle that was in him.
+It was a hard task, desperately hard, to cover the few feet which lay
+between the gap in the floor and the wall. Varley gritted his teeth,
+and pulled and tugged at the Shark, and gained inch by inch. But when
+the window had been reached, he slumped upon the floor beside his
+comrade, and lay there, panting heavily.
+
+Luckily the sash was still raised, and through the opening the fresh,
+damp air was pouring into the room. The Shark was the first to show
+its revivifying effects. He moved, lifted himself on an elbow. Varley,
+after a little, raised his head. The eyes of the two met.
+
+The Shark nodded solemnly. “Much obliged. Good work. You’re all right.
+I won’t forget it.” His voice was faint, but there was more than a hint
+of his usual crisp speech.
+
+With some difficulty Paul sat up. So did the Shark. There was a long
+pause, each regarding the other steadily. Suddenly Varley spoke:
+
+“We’re lucky--to get out of that.” He jerked his head in the direction
+of the yawning hole in the floor.
+
+“Sure!” responded the Shark. “You see how it was? Cellar’s been shut up
+tight, so the air goes bad. Read about such things. Knew something was
+happening to us, but it needed the way the match failed to burn to give
+me a hint of what it was.”
+
+“I understand. But--but what next?”
+
+Cautiously and with a manner of not being over-sure of himself, the
+Shark stood up. He peered out of the window, and shook his head.
+
+“Worse than it was,” he made report. “Raining harder than ever. And
+say! I’m pretty wet.”
+
+Varley, too, got upon his feet. A glance through the dingy panes
+sufficed. The Shark had not exaggerated the weather conditions outside.
+
+“Well, what ought we to do?” Paul inquired. “Pile out into it?”
+
+The Shark shook his head decidedly. “No; not just yet. I’m too nearly
+all in. Got to have a chance to pull myself together and get my second
+wind.”
+
+Varley shivered. “This--this is a pretty tough place to stay.”
+
+“We can help things a lot.”
+
+“How?” Paul asked incredulously.
+
+“There’s a fireplace yonder. We have matches. There’s a lot of dry
+stuff we can burn.”
+
+“Yes, but----”
+
+“There’s no ‘but’ about it. We’ve got a roof over our heads. We can
+have a fire. We will have one, and we’ll dry off, while we wait a while
+to see if the weather doesn’t change.”
+
+“But the rest of the crowd? They’ll be wanting to start back to town.”
+
+“They won’t start in an open sleigh in such a downpour.”
+
+“But they won’t know where we are.”
+
+“Huh! We don’t know just where they are this minute, either.”
+
+Paul hesitated. “Why--why, if we could get word to ’em----”
+
+Plainly, the Shark was rapidly becoming himself again, for he grunted
+scornfully. “Ugh! No telephone, no message. That’s all there is to it.
+May as well take things as they are and make the best of ’em.”
+
+“Well, I suppose that’s so,” Paul admitted, ruefully. Making the best
+of a long deserted house did not appear to him to offer much of promise.
+
+The Shark limped back to the break in the floor. He moved with caution,
+and came to no harm. Apparently the floor was in fair condition except
+at the spot where it had given way beneath their weight. The Shark
+offered an explanation:
+
+“Umph! Must have been a patch of dry-rot, and we struck it. Happens
+that way sometimes--don’t know the reason. But they built for keeps,
+the old fellows did, and this old shack’ll stand nobody knows how much
+longer. Now let’s see what we can do for kindling.”
+
+Bending down, he laid hold upon one of the fractured boards. The wood
+yielded to the pull, and he ripped off a piece a foot or more in length
+and two or three inches across. A second tug yielded a slightly smaller
+piece.
+
+Varley was observing the proceedings wonderingly.
+
+“You don’t mean to say, do you, that you can make a fire with that
+stuff?” he asked.
+
+“I can start one,” quoth the Shark. “Got to get something else to keep
+her going.”
+
+“Where can you get it?”
+
+The Shark nodded at the hole in the floor. “Down there. Lot of junk
+lying around. Saw it while the match was flickering.”
+
+Varley’s face lengthened. “What! You’d risk it in that cellar again?”
+
+“I’d risk more than that for a fire. Need it in my business, and need
+it quick.”
+
+“Well, you’re not going down there,” said Varley with decision.
+
+The Shark peered at him. “Huh? I’m not? How you make that out?”
+
+“Because I’m going down. Look here! Whoever goes ought not to stay
+there long. It’ll be a case of grabbing up stuff that’ll burn and
+passing it up to the other fellow. Now, I’ve got longer arms and legs
+than you have. I can reach farther. When it comes to getting out, I can
+get a grip on the floor, and you can lend a hand from above. The air
+below won’t be good, but it’ll be no worse than it was before. Maybe
+it’ll be a little better--perhaps some fresh air will leak down through
+the hole. But I can work the trick, and I can work it better than you
+could, because I’m better built for it.”
+
+The Shark paused in the operation of splitting one of the pieces of
+board. He blinked at Varley for a moment.
+
+“Hanged if I thought you had it in you!” he said frankly. “Oh, I don’t
+mean the courage--that’s common enough. I mean the gumption--the
+head-piece--the sense to figure it out. What you say’s all true; you’re
+better built for the job. So you may do it. And--well, you might as
+well go to it.”
+
+Varley needed no urging. He lowered himself through the opening, and
+dropped to the floor of the cellar. The Shark struck another of his
+precious matches, and held it like a tiny torch to guide the forager.
+There was draft enough to make it flicker wildly, but the same air
+currents did Varley a good turn.
+
+[Illustration: ANOTHER OF HIS PRECIOUS MATCHES]
+
+He told himself that there was a perceptible freshening of the
+atmosphere in the old cellar. The place certainly was still one in
+which he would not have cared to linger, but as he scrambled to a pile
+of rubbish, and caught up an armful, his breathing, though quickened,
+was not difficult. What he collected he could no more than guess, for
+the match flame hardly lightened the shadows. By feeling rather than by
+sight he knew that it was wood upon which he laid hands. Then the Shark
+had caught the load, and Varley was back for another, which followed
+the first through the opening. Then down shot the Shark’s arm, and a
+hand closed on Paul’s collar.
+
+“That’s enough to begin with. You come up--while the coming’s good!”
+
+The Shark’s tone was gruff, but, somehow, Varley knew there was
+approval in it. With right good will he obeyed the order; and with the
+other’s aid he was soon back in the room. His hands were bleeding from
+sliver wounds, and his clothes were torn, but his spirits were rising
+rapidly.
+
+“Huh! Good work!” grunted the Shark. “Stuff’ll burn.”
+
+Varley glanced at his plunder. It included barrel staves, broken
+for the most part; short lengths of board; a stick or two of split
+fire-wood; all coated with dust and cobwebs, which had accumulated in
+the course of many years.
+
+“Sure it’ll burn,” he declared. “It ought to be as dry as tinder.”
+
+The Shark knelt by the hearth and made a little pyramid of shavings,
+topped with bits of board. Then he struck another match; the shavings
+ignited; a yellow flame showed, and above it rose a curl of smoke.
+
+Deftly the Shark brought forward more wood, and added it to the pile.
+The flames spread, and so, for that matter, did the smoke, which
+belched from the fireplace into the room.
+
+“Got--got to wait for the chimney to warm,” gasped the Shark. “Always
+the way.... Whew! but that was a smotherer!”
+
+A cloud of smoke had driven fairly in his face. Coughing, he retreated,
+until he could clear his lungs. Then he came back valorously and played
+stoker.
+
+The fire began to burn more vigorously, and the flue to do its
+appointed part. There was less smoke, and more light in the room.
+Varley made his first deliberate inspection of their refuge.
+
+The ceiling was very low; he could touch it by raising his hand. The
+walls were grimy and spotted. Big beams showed at the corners. The
+fireplace was a rough, but substantial, affair, smoke blackened. The
+pieces of furniture he had noticed on first entering were decrepit with
+age. The table lacked a leg; the settle sagged at one end; the chest of
+drawers was a ruin.
+
+The Shark was taking off his overcoat, and unbuckling his high
+overshoes. From both shoes and coat steam was rising as they caught the
+heat from the fire.
+
+Varley followed his companion’s example. As he removed his shoes, he
+whistled softly. The guaranteed waterproofing had not been up to the
+requirements of such a test as it had undergone.
+
+The Shark sat down on the floor; so did Varley. Each clasped his hands
+about his knees, and stared at the fire. It was crackling merrily, but
+not loudly enough to drown the sounds of the rain dashing against the
+old house.
+
+There was a long pause before either spoke. Then said Varley,
+ruminatively:
+
+“I guess you were right--a fire does help things a lot. I shouldn’t
+have thought of it. Still, this is a new game for me, this knocking
+about in the wilds; and it’s an old story for you.”
+
+“Not so very old,” corrected the Shark. “Had a taste of it while ago,
+up in the big woods. Time our crowd got caught in a blizzard we found
+an old shack, and took possession. And the first thing we did was to
+start a fire. And maybe we didn’t need it! Cold? It was! How cold? Huh!
+Some of the fellows were talking about thirty below. No thermometer
+along, though--pity! Man ought to travel equipped for taking notes. And
+a good, registered thermometer’d be a great comfort. So’d a barometer,
+eh?”
+
+“Why--why, very likely.”
+
+The Shark shook his head. “Trouble is, folks don’t realize the need of
+precision. They’ll make a guess at the temperature, and let it go at
+that. Bah!”
+
+Varley, not knowing what response to make, said nothing.
+
+The Shark resumed his staring at the fire. There was another pause,
+even longer than that which had gone before. Varley at last pulled out
+his watch, and uttered an exclamation of vexation.
+
+“Thunder! The thing’s stopped--must have been caused by that fall. What
+time do you suppose it is?”
+
+“Don’t know. Left my watch at home to-day,” said the Shark.
+
+Varley sprang up--then groaned at the pangs he suffered as the result
+of his incautious haste of movement. He looked out of the window, his
+face lengthening.
+
+“Cracky! but it’s getting mighty dark! And the rain’s fairly coming
+down in buckets. I can’t see any distance. But unless I’m amazingly
+mistaken--say, look here, will you?”
+
+The Shark joined him.
+
+“What’s that out there? Looks like a regular lake!” Paul cried.
+
+The Shark made deliberate inspection. Close to the old house was now an
+expanse of water, probably not very deep, but certainly of considerable
+area.
+
+“Back-water!” was the Shark’s verdict.
+
+“Back-water?” Paul repeated doubtfully.
+
+“From the river. It’s over its bank at some low spot, and the water has
+spread out. It fills up the low places, of course, and this house seems
+to stand on a little rise. Very likely we’re surrounded.”
+
+“Cut off, you mean?”
+
+“Not if we want to wade out.”
+
+“Oh! Wade?” Varley did not look happy at the prospect.
+
+The Shark studied the scene--so far as it could be made out in the dim
+light.
+
+“Umph! Must be getting late,” he remarked coolly. “Don’t know that a
+wading job would be any wetter than a walk. Still, would either pay?
+We’re all right here. There’s more wood for the fire to be had down
+cellar.... Um, u-m-m! Maybe it’d be wisest to let well enough alone.”
+
+“And stay here?”
+
+“Sure! For a while, anyway, till the rain lessens, and that pond has a
+chance to drain off.”
+
+“But will it drain off?”
+
+The Shark shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody knows.”
+
+Varley deliberated for a moment. “But how about the rest of the crowd?
+What’ll they be thinking?”
+
+“Don’t know. I’m no mind reader.”
+
+“But----”
+
+“But what can we do about it?” the Shark broke in. “We can wade out of
+this and be like two drowned rats for wetness, or we can stay here.”
+
+“All night?”
+
+“If necessary. Nothing to hurt us, is there?”
+
+“No,” said Paul reluctantly. “But I wish we--well, I wish we could get
+word to the others.”
+
+The Shark grunted. Then he limped to the fireplace and gave the fire a
+poke with a stick. Flames shot higher, illuminating the room.
+
+“This suits me better than what’s waiting for us outside,” he said, and
+dropped to his old place on the floor.
+
+Paul joined him.
+
+“Whew!” said the city youth, after a little. “Tell you, I never knew
+before what a comfort a fire could be!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI BLIND TRAILS
+
+
+From closets and sheds and attics Mrs. Grant produced an amazing supply
+of rubber coats and boots, oilskins and sou’westers.
+
+“Here, now, boys, fit yourselves out,” she directed. “Or, if you can’t
+fit yourselves, come the nearest you can. Most of these things Mr.
+Grant has used one time or another, but they’ll turn water more or
+less. And looks won’t count--there’ll be nobody to see you. And you’ll
+find the other boys, of course, and when you do, bring ’em right here.
+And then we’ll have a good, hot supper, and everybody’ll feel better.”
+
+This was spoken bravely enough; but it was clear that Mrs. Grant was
+worried, if not greatly alarmed, by the absence of Varley and the
+Shark. Sam and his friends made haste to equip themselves. In two or
+three cases high overshoes were esteemed sufficient protection for the
+feet, but the other boys were glad to turn to boots. Every boy found
+something in the shape of a rain-coat; for the downpour out-of-doors
+made all possible covering desirable. Some of the garments were
+grotesquely large for the wearers, but nobody made a joke of this.
+In fact, the club was quite of opinion that real work lay before the
+searchers.
+
+Sam noticed that while Mr. Grant sent a farm-hand to the barn with
+orders to harness a horse, the farmer himself proposed to accompany the
+party on foot. There was a little consultation on the porch.
+
+“We ought to scatter, of course,” Mr. Grant declared. “Some can scout
+up the road, and some down. Others can strike across lots to the sugar
+camp and spread out from there. Then, if need be, I can send down to
+the foot of the valley for news. A rig’ll be ready to go.”
+
+Nobody made answer for a moment. A trip to the foot of the valley would
+mean that there was reason to believe the Shark and Varley had fallen
+into the river and been carried down-stream.
+
+“I--I hope that won’t be necessary,” Sam said at last, unsteadily.
+
+“I don’t think it will be,” Mr. Grant encouraged. “I’ve been figuring
+on this business, and it seems to me the chances are that those
+youngsters strayed away from the camp, lost their bearings, and when
+the rain increased took to any shelter they could find. With the
+weather as thick as it is, it wouldn’t be hard for them to miss their
+way. Of course, if they kept their heads, they’d steer for higher
+ground, knowing that sooner or later they’d come to a road. But boys
+will be boys--and there’s the river, of course. We can’t forget that.”
+
+Sam nodded. “We’re not forgetting it, sir. And as for keeping their
+heads--well, one of those fellows is a stranger to all this sort of
+thing, but the other’s as cool as they make ’em. That’s the part that
+sets me worrying most: the Shark’s not likely to go wool-gathering
+unless he gets interested in some of his calculations.”
+
+“He’d have trouble in finding a slate to do his ciphering out yonder.”
+
+“Oh, the Shark wouldn’t need slates or paper. His head’s good enough
+for him. But--but don’t you think we’d better start, sir?”
+
+“Yes,” said Mr. Grant briskly.
+
+It was left to Sam, as the recognized leader of the club, to allot the
+tasks. Poke and Step he told off to follow the road up the valley, with
+instructions to make inquiries at each house on the way. The Trojan
+and Herman Boyd were to scout down the road. Mr. Grant went with Lon,
+Orkney and Sam himself to the sugar camp.
+
+The tramp across the fields gave plenty of evidences of the rapidity
+with which the thaw was progressing. The lowlands were fairly afloat,
+and the line of march led through pools, some of which were more than
+ankle deep.
+
+Arriving at the camp, Sam shouted lustily, but there was no response.
+Again heads were put together for a consultation. It resulted in a
+scattering of the party through the maple grove, each of the searchers
+looking for tracks in the melting snow.
+
+In this several difficulties were encountered. To begin with, Mr. Grant
+and his helpers had been busy about the place for some days, and near
+the building footprints were only too numerous. Then, too, the heavy
+rain made it hard to tell fresh tracks from old. It was Lon Gates who
+suggested an improvement in their method of search.
+
+“This ain’t gettin’ us nowhere, folks. We’re like fellers in one o’
+them mazes you read about, that’s jest a puzzle and bewilderment. Let’s
+get out of it, and skirmish round the edges o’ things. If the boys
+scooted off, they scooted somewhere; and we ought to be able to pick up
+the trail where it ain’t all tangled up with half a dozen others and I
+dunno how many more.”
+
+Following this suggestion, they made a circuit of the “Island.” It
+revealed no less than four trails, any one of which might be the one
+they sought.
+
+One led down the valley; two others toward the river; the fourth
+headed up-stream. With the drive of the rain sharp outlines had been
+obliterated.
+
+Lon studied the impressions closely.
+
+“I ain’t no Apache tracker, and I dunno’s it would help things much if
+I was; but if you want my guess, it’s that more’n one feller went this
+way.” He nodded at a trail leading toward the river.
+
+Mr. Grant inclined to believe that the down-valley trail was more
+promising. The boys hesitated, frankly unable to form an intelligent
+opinion.
+
+“Well, we can try both,” said the farmer. “I’ll take this chap”--he
+nodded at Orkney--“and you two can go the other road.”
+
+Nobody else had a better plan to offer. Mr. Grant and Orkney plodded
+off down the valley, and Lon and Sam headed for the river.
+
+For a little way the marks they followed were fairly plain. That is, it
+was quite evident that one or more persons had passed that way, though
+how long before was pure guesswork. Then, presently, they came to a
+low, swampy tract; and here among hummocks and pools and dense patches
+of bushes the trail lost itself.
+
+“No use, Sam!” Lon growled, as he stumbled over a root, and barely
+escaped a fall. “If those two young idiots were steering for anything
+in partic’lar, it’d be the river. Come on! We’ll try for a short cut.”
+
+With that he broke through the thicket, and Sam pressed after him. In
+a few minutes more they were on the bank of the stream, peering eagerly
+about them.
+
+So heavy was the pouring rain that it was hardly possible to make out
+clearly the fringe of trees along the opposite side of the river. The
+swift current was racing along, its surface dotted with masses of ice
+and now and then a floating log.
+
+“Umph! Gettin’ up, Sam, gettin’ up this brook is!” quoth Lon. “And
+somebody up-river’s losin’ his cord-wood. And I say now--jest look at
+that, will ye?”
+
+Sam looked. He made out the object at which Lon was pointing, but at
+first was uncertain what it might be.
+
+“Chicken coop,” Lon explained. “And that thing bobbin’ up and down
+yonder’s a packin’ case, or I miss my guess. Bet you they’re havin’
+doin’s up above!”
+
+Sam was doing his best to master every feature of the scene; but most
+of all he was seeking traces of his missing friends.
+
+“I can’t see anything--anything of the boys,” he complained. “I don’t
+believe they came this way.”
+
+Lon grinned wrily. “Don’t see why they should ’a’ wanted to, if they
+had the wits they was born with. And if we’ve got ours left, there
+ain’t no jest cause and impediment why we shouldn’t move on.”
+
+“Which way?”
+
+Lon considered briefly. “My notion is we might as well go back to the
+camp, and pick up another of the trails. There’s nothin’ to show that
+those fellows strayed here. But what in time made ’em drift away from
+the rest of the crowd, anyway?”
+
+Sam couldn’t offer reasonable explanation. Lon grunted:
+
+“Ugh! Been a boy myself, and had the benefit of your society, Sam, to
+keep my hand in, but hanged if I can make out why boys’ll do things
+that wouldn’t get a vote at an election in a lunatic asylum! But that
+ain’t gettin’ us nowhere or nohow. Let’s go back!”
+
+They splashed through the puddles, plowed through the snow where it
+still lay deep, broke a way through the swampy thickets. Both, it may
+be, were in hopes of seeing Mr. Grant and Orkney at the camp, but
+nobody was in sight near the building.
+
+Lon now turned attention to the trail leading up the valley.
+
+“I dunno’s this is more promisin’, but I can’t say it’s any less. Maybe
+it’s fresher--must say, though, they all look a lot alike to me. And
+when you don’t know anything about a thing, why----”
+
+“Hullo!” Sam broke in. “Here comes Orkney!”
+
+Tom was hurrying along at the best pace he could make in his big,
+borrowed rubber boots. There was a look of anxiety on his face, but he
+spoke quietly when he joined Sam and Lon.
+
+“Mr. Grant told me to look you up. No; I’ve no news--that is, we didn’t
+find anything. But when we got a look at the river, Mr. Grant decided
+he’d send his man down to the foot of the valley at once. So he made a
+short cut for the house, and I started to hunt you up. I’ll work with
+you.”
+
+“Then----” Sam began unsteadily.
+
+“Don’t jump to the conclusion that Mr. Grant thinks Varley and the
+Shark have been carried down-stream. Only the river is a lot higher
+than he expected to find it, and the current’s swifter. So he is going
+to send his man down to the bridges. But he thought it might be well
+for you to scout the other way. I’ll help. I suppose he’ll follow us
+later.”
+
+“Umph! Can’t be much later if he means to ketch up with us before
+dark,” Lon observed.
+
+There was point to the remark. The gloomy afternoon was shading into a
+twilight which gave promise of a pitchy night to follow. The rain still
+fell in undiminished volume. At any other time Sam might have laughed
+at the picture made by his companions. Lon’s “slicker” and Tom’s heavy
+mackintosh ran little streams in every wrinkle, while others dripped
+briskly from the brims of their head-gear.
+
+“Come on!” Sam said impatiently.
+
+This time they were on the right trail, though, of course, none of the
+three could know it. It was easily followed until it brought them to
+the point on the river bank where Varley and the Shark had halted for a
+time; but there they lost it. The drenched thickets hid footprints, and
+the growing darkness was a steadily increasing handicap.
+
+Lon frowned in perplexity. “I swan, but I don’t like this!” he
+declared. “This river’s practically bank full and sloppin’ over. Look
+there!” He pointed to a little stream which was finding its way across
+a low spot on the shore. “This is goin’ to be jest one big frog pond
+before long, or I’ll eat my hat.”
+
+“Let’s go a little farther, anyway!” Sam urged.
+
+“With you there, Sam!” cried Lon readily enough.
+
+“Of course--only thing to do,” said Orkney curtly.
+
+They went on, following the bank. As a matter of fact, the footing
+there was better than it was at a greater distance from the stream;
+for here was one of the low-lying, swampy patches, which were actually
+lower than the dike-like ridge along the river. At the best, though,
+progress was slow. There were tangles of brush; there were gullies, now
+turned into channels for the water; there were spots where the snow had
+given place to a sticky and treacherous mire.
+
+Now and then one or the other of the searchers shouted lustily. It can
+hardly be said that an answer was expected, but after each hail there
+was a halt, in which the three strained their ears. Perhaps this was
+because their eyes could pierce the gloom for but a little way.
+
+How far this slow and difficult march continued it would have been hard
+for any of the little party to estimate. They might have covered a
+mile; it might not be a half-mile.
+
+Lon, who was in the lead, suddenly pulled up.
+
+“Boys,” he said, “I hate to give up, but is there any use holdin’ on
+longer? It’s gettin’ powerful dark; the rain’s wuss than ever; we
+dunno but Varley and the Shark are this minute toastin’ their toes by
+Mis’ Grant’s fire. Besides, we’ve got to have lanterns if we’re goin’
+to poke around this way. ’Tain’t altogether a question now of findin’
+somebody else; it’s gettin’ to be a question o’ keepin’ ourselves from
+gettin’ lost. What say, Sam?”
+
+Sam hesitated, glancing at Orkney. What Lon had said was true enough.
+Still, he was extremely reluctant to abandon or even to interrupt the
+hunt. Orkney, too, appeared to be of this opinion, if Sam interpreted
+rightly the look on his face.
+
+“Well, Lon,” Sam began doubtfully; “of course----”
+
+There he broke off, abruptly; clapped a hand to his ear; bent forward,
+listening eagerly.
+
+“What’s that sound? Catch it? Something mighty queer about it.”
+
+Sam’s voice had been shaking with excitement. Orkney’s answer was not
+free of the same note:
+
+“I hear it. I--I never heard anything else just like it. ’Tisn’t just
+like a rustle, or a rumble, or--or I don’t know what to call it. But I
+make it out fast enough!”
+
+“Umph! So do I--now,” said Lon sharply.
+
+The sound, by this time, was clearly to be distinguished from the
+steady and monotonous beat of the rain, and from the grating of ice
+floes in the river and the splash of waves on the bank. In a way it
+suggested the approach of a heavy train--and a train coming on at high
+speed.
+
+Lon’s arm shot out. His hand closed on Sam’s arm.
+
+“Come on!” he shouted to Orkney. “Hustle for all you’re wuth!”
+
+The boys were close behind him as he crashed through the bushes,
+straight away from the river. They ran as for their lives, while the
+rumbling sound grew in volume. They splashed through a pool, the water
+of which came to their knees. They crossed a little ridge, waded
+another small pond, gained higher ground. Here were some trees of
+considerable size, and Lon paused an instant as if meditating taking
+shelter among them.
+
+The rumbling now had grown to a roar, in which the other sounds of the
+storm were lost. And whatever was causing it was drawing very near the
+spot where the three stood. Lon peered hard up the valley, then turned
+toward the trees.
+
+“May be a climbin’ job!” he sang out. “Look lively, both of you! What’s
+comin’ is goin’ to be a-plenty, and it’s ’most here.”
+
+Sam, too, had been making swift observation, and his eye had caught
+something which had escaped Lon’s vision. A patch of light, faint,
+glimmering, half hidden by intervening branches--so much he made out.
+Then it was his turn to shout, “Come on--quick!” He broke into a run,
+and with Tom and Lon at his heels hurried toward the light, which,
+feeble though it might be, was like a friendly beacon.
+
+The rumbling roar was thunderous as they burst into a clearing and
+made out the dim mass of a building, from which the light glimmered.
+Instinctively they dashed for the door. Lon tore desperately at the
+boards which barred it, but Tom and Sam turned to the window. From the
+lips of each burst an exclamation of amazement.
+
+By the light of the fire on the hearth they made out two figures. They
+recognized the missing pair. Both Varley and the Shark appeared to have
+been dozing on the floor, and just to have been awakened by the ominous
+tumult without; for the one was starting to his feet, and the other,
+on hands and knees, was peering dazedly through his spectacles at the
+window.
+
+But this was a time for swift action and not for pause for inquiries.
+Lon, abandoning the door, sprang to his companions. He caught Sam, and
+swung him to the ledge of the window, which still luckily was open;
+seized Tom and raised him to the same position of comparative safety.
+Then as the boys dropped to the floor of the room, he climbed with all
+speed after them. Sam, turning, laid hold on his arm, dragging him over
+the ledge, just as the thunder seemed to be rolling all about them,
+and just as a wave, palely crested with white foam, went swirling down
+the valley, crashing viciously on the foundations of the old house and
+rising to the top of the stout masonry.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII THE RISING FLOOD
+
+
+There was the briefest of exchanges of greetings between the friends
+thus unexpectedly reunited.
+
+“What on earth are you two doing here?” Sam demanded. “Haven’t you any
+notion of the worry you’ve made for everybody?”
+
+“Huh! Mind where you’re going!” the Shark cautioned. “Hole in the
+floor. We broke through. Rest of it’ll hold, I guess, but I wouldn’t
+stamp hard.”
+
+Sam checked his advance in time. He glanced curiously at the fractured
+boards, at which the Shark pointed.
+
+“Fell through, did you? Well, it looks as if you did. But I say! What
+did you crawl in here for, anyway?”
+
+Before the Shark could answer, Lon spoke. He had remained at the
+window, and was studying as best he might the swift tide pouring down
+the valley.
+
+“Boys, one o’ them dams up-river must ’a’ gone out! That was the first
+wave of the rush that ’most caught us. There’s a lot o’ water still
+comin’ along, but ’tain’t quite’s high as ’twas. And so, lookin’ at
+things by and large, I guess it was mighty lucky that we happened in
+jest as we did. If nothin’ more gives way up above, we ain’t likely to
+be any wuss off than we are now; and when things get kind o’ drained
+off, as you might say, we can toddle on. Meanwhile”--here he turned and
+glanced at the fire--“meanwhile, that heatin’ contraption looks amazin’
+good to me.”
+
+Varley threw on some more wood. Sam and Orkney, and then Lon, gingerly
+skirted the hole in the floor and took their places at the edge of
+the hearth. Lon stripped off his dripping rubber coat; Sam and Orkney
+followed the example. The Shark watched these proceedings with a
+certain grim approval, but suddenly his brow clouded.
+
+“See here, you fellows! You were hunting for us, as if you thought we
+were lost?”
+
+It was half question, half accusation. Sam answered curtly:
+
+“We certainly thought you were.”
+
+“Huh!” The Shark’s tone was scornful.
+
+“If you had to wander off, why didn’t you go back to the Grants’ house?”
+
+“Had something better to do.”
+
+“Here?”
+
+The Shark hesitated. “Why--why, not exactly here. We were looking for
+something. We found it. Then we happened to see this house. It was
+raining pitchforks, and we decided to come in out of the wet, and wait
+for a break. And being here, we made ourselves as comfortable as we
+could. You’d have done the same thing, wouldn’t you?”
+
+“What did you suppose we’d think when you didn’t turn up?”
+
+“You ought to have known we could take care of ourselves.”
+
+Sam checked the hot retort that was on his lips. After all, “Safety
+First” was a sound rule in the case of words as well as acts. A quarrel
+would benefit nobody.
+
+“Well, Shark,” he said quietly, “we feared you might have met an
+accident of some sort, and if you had, we wanted to help you.”
+
+“Course you would!” cried the Shark, at once mollified. “And we did
+have an accident--little one, that is. Geeminy! if you’d seen us go
+kerflop through the floor! Patch of boards just rotted out, and we had
+the luck to strike it.”
+
+Sam’s eyes ranged the room. “Old-timer, this house,” he remarked.
+
+“It’s very old,” Varley put in. “We’ve tried to look it over, but it
+was too dark to see much. Still, we could make out that evidently
+nobody has lived here for years.”
+
+Lon, too, had been making observations. “Boys,” he said, “if I ain’t
+way off the track, this is jest the plummest oldest house anywhere in
+these parts. It’ll be the old Dominie Pike place, or I’m a hornpout!”
+
+“The Dominie Pike place?” Orkney echoed.
+
+“Yep. His house Mis’ Grant was tellin’ us about--the last one he built.”
+
+Orkney moved away from the fire. Very slowly he made a circuit of the
+room, inspecting it with manifest interest, so far as the uncertain
+light permitted.
+
+Sam went to the window. The rain was still falling heavily; water
+surrounded the house, but the rapidity of the current appeared to have
+lessened. As well as he could determine, the top of the foundation was
+just above water.
+
+Meanwhile Lon was adding to the fire. He caught the eye of Sam, as the
+latter turned back from the window, and winked meaningly.
+
+“Nothin’ like makin’ yourself to hum,” he remarked, “and that there
+blaze does go to the right spot--no, to the right spots, by ginger!
+for those clothes o’ mine must ’a’ been leakin’ all over. My notion
+is, we’re mighty lucky to be right here this minute. Tell you a house
+comes in mighty handy when you need one. By the way, Varley”--he paused
+briefly--“by the way, I s’pose these boys told you how once this crowd
+was amazin’ glad to put up at old Calleck’s shack.”
+
+“I’ve heard something about it,” said Paul, “but not the whole story.”
+
+Lon was grinning reminiscently. “Like this case it was, some
+ways--other ways ’twa’n’t. Blizzard caught us that time, and now it’s
+a flood. Both times, though, we needed fire and a roof--generally do
+in these parts, ’less it may be for a month or so in summer. So old
+Calleck’s ruin seemed mighty good to us. This house’s a reg’lar palace
+’longside of it. But what’d you expect? Old Calleck was a queer coot,
+that went away from other folks to build a place in the woods, while
+Dominie Pike cleared his place in the woods to kind o’ encourage other
+folks to come in and settle. And some folks do say this must be jest
+the spot where the Dominie and the Indian had their big run-in. But
+then likely’s not you’ve all heard that yarn.”
+
+“We haven’t!”
+
+“Tell us!”
+
+“Fire ahead!”
+
+Lon grinned again. No doubt he was well pleased to see his plan to draw
+the boys’ thoughts from their plight bearing results.
+
+“Wal, way the story’s handed down’s about like this: The Dominie was
+an explorer, and he worked in here ahead of the settlers. But for
+all he knew the ways of the woods, he was plumb lost when he came to
+Sugar Valley. And one reason he’d missed his bearin’s was that for
+two-three days he’d been kinder bothered by a notion somebody was
+doggin’ his track. Funny part was, he couldn’t be sure--that is, he
+couldn’t get a squint at the critter he sensed was after him. And,
+bein’ the man he was, the Dominie didn’t let the huntin’ go all on
+one side. He turned to and hunted the hunter, which was what we’d
+call a sporty proposition, but helped to mix him up. Course, if he
+hadn’t been bothered, he could ’a’ found the road back; but bein’ a
+lot bothered, he was as good as lost, for the time bein’. And so one
+night he was bivouackin’ out in the open, right along here, I guess;
+and bunkin’ close to a big tree and keepin’ one eye open and maybe
+both ears listenin’--well, after a while, he was surer than ever that
+t’other party was mighty clost. Now, the Dominie wasn’t the citizen to
+make trouble walk its legs off comin’ to meet him. He started for the
+half-way point or better, with his old flintlock primed and ready to do
+business. There was a big moon, and when he came to a nat’ral meadow,
+he could see ’most as plain as day. And all of a sudden he did see
+something. An Injun was stealin’, stealthy like, out of the opposite
+edge of the woods. Just as the brave cleared the cover, though,
+something else shot like a growlin’ streak off the limb of a tree, and
+in a jiffy there was the pootiest Injun-panther fight you ever heard of.
+
+“The Dominie’s gun jumped to his shoulder--that was what you’d call
+instinctive, I guess. Then he run forward. Way things were, he didn’t
+feel like wastin’ powder and ball--took time, remember, to charge up
+them old shootin’ irons. Then something mighty queer happened.
+
+“The big cat was chain lightnin’, but that Injun wa’n’t so slow
+himself. He’d half ducked the panther’s spring, though he’d caught a
+clawin’ doin’ it; and the cat had overshot, as you might say, and was
+crouchin’ for a second spring when it sighted the Dominie. For about a
+second it was a three-cornered puzzle, with the Dominie with his gun at
+his shoulder, and the Injun trainin’ his artillery for action--yes, he
+had a gun, too--and the panther switchin’ its tail and makin’ up its
+mind whether it’d jump for the white man or the red. And the brave’s
+gun was a-swingin’ as if he wa’n’t quite clear whether he’d better pot
+the brute or the white man. Now seein’ these things, as the Dominie
+seen ’em, there’s some folks as ’d kept that Injun covered, anyhow,
+sayin’ as how the scrap was his to begin with. But that wa’n’t Dominie
+Pike’s way. Sot in his notions, the Dominie was; and one of them was
+that he’d rather shoot wild beasts than humans. So he put a ball
+through that panther’s head, and took his chances o’ the red brother
+collectin’ his scalp. Which he didn’t--as this house, which the Dominie
+built years afterward, shows.”
+
+Lon paused, but there was a chorus of demands that he go on with the
+story. What did the Indian do? Why didn’t he attack the Dominie?
+
+Lon chuckled softly, perhaps more at thought of his success in holding
+the attention of the boys away from their predicament than at the
+continuation of the anecdote.
+
+“Wall, I wa’n’t there, so I can’t make no affidavits. But the yarn goes
+that when that Injun seen the panther drop, he laid down his gun like
+a gentleman and a good sport. And the Dominie laid down his--course,
+’twa’n’t loaded, but the move showed a friendly, give and take spirit.
+And both of ’em took a step forward, and looked each other over in the
+moonlight. Then they took another look, and the Dominie said something.
+The Injun said something back. His lingo was new to the Dominie mostly,
+but some words he could make out. And, after a long while, each got
+kind of a line on the other. Each was lost--there’s a funny part of it.”
+
+“But an Indian wouldn’t be lost in the woods,” Sam objected.
+
+Lon shook his head. “Wrong there, Sam. This Injun was lost. Course, if
+he hadn’t been bothered, and if his grub held out, he’d have worked his
+way back; but, as ’twas, he was a stray from the country he knew. So he
+and the Dominie, once makin’ friends, could hit it out fine, both bein’
+in the same box. And they did hit it out. Dominie Pike allers got along
+fust rate with the Injuns, anyhow. But it was while he was connivin’
+with this special Injun that he got acquainted with Sugar Valley and
+decided to move in and settle permanent.”
+
+Tom Orkney spoke in the incisive fashion he had. “That story in the
+Dominie’s diary, Lon?”
+
+“Reckon so. Not that I ever saw the book, though--remember, don’t you,
+what Mis’ Grant told us about its gettin’ lost?”
+
+“I remember,” said Tom.
+
+Lon put another stick on the fire. “How’s the supply of fuel?” he
+inquired. “And where might the wood-pile happen to be?”
+
+“I’ll show you,” cried Varley; and, eager to bear his full part, began
+to lower himself through the hole in the floor. There was the sound of
+a loud splashing, and in an instant Paul, drenched to the knees, was
+scrambling back.
+
+“Cellar’s flooded!” he shouted excitedly. “Water’s almost up to the
+floor beams!”
+
+“’Twould be, of course,” said Lon coolly.
+
+“Yes, we should have thought of that,” Sam agreed. “Wait a minute,
+though, fellows.”
+
+Again he went to the window, and peered out. The darkness was intense;
+the rain continued to fall heavily. It was largely guesswork, but his
+impression was that there had been a slight rise in the water about the
+house since his last observation.
+
+Sam turned to his companions. He was quite aware of the need of keeping
+his head.
+
+“Things are no better,” he retorted, “but we could hardly expect them
+to be.”
+
+“Not with this rain poundin’ down,” Lon put in.
+
+“Still, they’re not much worse,” Sam added.
+
+“And we’re safe and snug, with a roof over us.”
+
+The Shark grunted. “Huh! It’s a leaking roof. Look there!”
+
+He pointed to a dark patch of moisture on one of the walls.
+
+“Oh, that?” Lon tried to speak lightly. “Guess there may be a few of
+the old shingles loose.”
+
+The Shark jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “If you look in the corner,
+you’ll find a small waterfall going. I’ve been hearing the splash for
+a quarter of an hour. I don’t care a rap, but I do like to have things
+stated accurately. The roof must be like a sieve!”
+
+“Oh, well, what are the odds?” queried Sam, as cheerily as he could.
+
+The Shark waved a hand. “I’m not kicking on the facts, but on the
+errors of statement--that’s all.”
+
+“Well, state it to suit yourself,” said Sam; but the Shark did not
+accept the invitation.
+
+There was a pause in the talk, and it was a long pause. The drip, drip
+of more than one little stream was audible, except when the noises from
+without rose above all other sounds. The fall of the rain was like
+a steady drone; the wind was beginning to rise, and now and then a
+squall whipped the branches of an overhanging tree against the house;
+at intervals could be heard the harsh grating of ice against ice, as
+the floes went drifting by. Twice or thrice floating masses struck the
+house blows that made the old structure tremble, and then ground along
+the side till the flood carried them clear.
+
+Not a member of the party from Lon down to the Shark but was
+considering their situation and its dangers, each in his own way. For
+all the conclusion was the same: there was nothing for it but to remain
+where they were. If the flood rose no higher, they would not fare
+very badly. The house, ancient though it might be, plainly was still
+a strong structure, capable of withstanding much battering. Lon, who
+broke the silence, phrased the opinion of the group:
+
+“When the old Dominie built, he built for keeps--no jerry work for
+him, I tell you! Big beams, heavy timbers--wood was the cheapest thing
+outdoors in his times. And wooden pegs to hold ’em together. Why,
+boys, I’ve seen folks tryin’ to tear down an old house like this one,
+and they pretty nigh had to use dynamite to unjoint the frame. Don’t
+believe that? Umph! They had to use a yoke of oxen, then, if that’ll
+suit you better.”
+
+“Either story suits us well enough,” said Sam; and with that the talk
+languished.
+
+Now and then one or another went to the window, peered out, came
+back, hovered over the fire. It was dying down now, and the stock of
+available fuel was running short. But already there were warnings that
+it would not be long before the fire would be put out in another way.
+
+The water in the cellar had risen to the level of the floor of the
+room. From the gap where the Shark and Varley had broken through, a
+pool was spreading toward the walls. Through the door, too, a stream
+was trickling, a tiny stream at first, but steadily growing in volume.
+
+There was no way to check the rising tide, and the boys silently
+watched the water approach the hearth. At last it reached the glowing
+coals. There was a faint, hissing sound. A little puff of steam rose,
+gleamed white for an instant, faded away. A black border of drenched
+ashes was slowly widening and nearing the heart of the fire.
+
+Sam turned to the Shark. “There’s an upper story; there’ll be stairs,
+of course. Looked around any, have you?”
+
+The Shark nodded. “We looked. Yes, there are stairs--we didn’t go up.
+Pretty dark it was.”
+
+“It’ll be darker now, but we’ll have to try ’em,” said Sam quietly.
+
+Again the Shark nodded. “Figured it would come to that. So I saved
+this.” He pulled from within his jacket a piece of pine board. “This
+was dry and I guess I’ve kept it so. Lot of pitch in it, too. Ought to
+make sort of a torch. Wait a minute!”
+
+Bending forward, he thrust an end of the piece of wood into the flame
+still burning at the back of the hearth. There was a sputter, a spark
+or two flew. Then a jet of smoke shot out, and a yellow tongue curled
+about the end of the pine board.
+
+Protecting the precious flame with his cupped hand, the Shark followed
+Sam through the doorway, and into the hall of the old house, wading
+through water ankle deep as they went. After them filed the others, Lon
+bringing up the rear.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT
+
+
+The hallway of the ancient structure was curiously small in contrast
+with the big room the boys had just left. It was, indeed, little more
+than a box of an entry, with a winding stair in one corner, a plan
+of construction made necessary, no doubt, by the huge chimney in the
+middle of the house. In making the most of limited space, however, the
+designer had produced a crowded effect, even when the hall was bare of
+fittings, as it now was.
+
+With the draft created by the fire and the open window, the air in
+the room the boys had just left had freshened considerably; but the
+hall was full of a stale and musty odor. The torch burned feebly. Once
+it seemed to be on the point of being extinguished, but the Shark by
+careful nursing saved the flame.
+
+Sam laid hand on the old-fashioned rail of the stairway.
+
+“One at a time,” he said. “If there are any weak spots, we don’t want
+to tumble through them in a crowd. Safety First!”
+
+“Sure thing--Varley and I got enough of the other scheme!” quoth the
+Shark. “Go ahead, Sam!”
+
+A bit gingerly Sam began the ascent of the flight. The old boards
+creaked and groaned under his weight, but there was no indication of
+serious weakness in them or their supports.
+
+The flickering light from the torch left the top of the stairs in deep
+shadow. The explorer inferred rather than was certain that the upper
+hall was merely a landing by which one could reach the rooms on either
+side. Still holding the rail, he called out to the others to follow,
+one by one.
+
+Orkney gave Varley a push, and thus settled the order of precedence;
+for the Shark elected to be No. 3, keeping the light in the midst of
+the party. Then Lon shoved Orkney ahead, much as Tom had encouraged
+Paul, and made himself the rear-guard. The stairs groaned and creaked
+more dolefully than ever, but held firm.
+
+Sam, meanwhile, had edged across the landing and into one of the
+rooms, the door of which stood open. It happened to be directly above
+the apartment they had first entered, and, so far as he could make out,
+corresponded with it in size, though it was still lower of ceiling. A
+gleam from the smoking pine stick showed that, like the room below, it
+had a fireplace.
+
+While the air was a trifle better than on the lower floor, Sam lost
+no time in getting at a window; and when the sash stuck, he promptly
+smashed a couple of the small panes. Incidentally, he made note that
+the rain was falling steadily.
+
+In this upper chamber the proofs of the leaks in the roof were
+numerous. Little streams were running down all four of the walls,
+against one of which, where probably the beams sagged, a pool a yard
+or more across had formed. Other parts of the floor, however, were
+still dry. Very few of the furnishings had been left in the room. The
+tall headboard of an old-fashioned bedstead leaned against a wall, and
+near the hearth was a heavy settle, too bulky, probably, to have made
+it worth while to go to the trouble of removing it. It furnished a
+seat for Lon and Orkney, while Varley and the Shark joined Sam in the
+inspection of their refuge. This completed, the three joined the two
+before the fireplace. The Shark stuck his brand in a crevice between
+two bricks; watched its none too vigorous flame for a moment; stepped
+forward and extinguished it.
+
+“Guess we’ll economize on the illumination,” he said. “When this is
+gone, I don’t know where the next’ll come from. And who’s afraid of the
+dark, anyway?”
+
+Nobody made reply to this query. There was a pause; then Sam asked,
+a little sharply, if the Shark were sure his supply of matches was
+protected from the dampness. In turn, the question led to a reckoning
+of the stock of all the party. Orkney had a metal pocket-case, well
+filled; Lon had a score of matches loose in a waistcoat pocket; Sam
+himself could contribute a dozen. In this respect, at least, they were
+prepared for emergencies. Sam heard somebody’s sigh of relief in the
+darkness, and sympathized with it.
+
+Truth to tell, the adventurers were now in the midst of one of their
+most trying experiences. The gloom of the room; the inaction; the
+forced waiting--all these things tested grit. For the time being, they
+seemed to be safe enough, but nobody could tell what the conditions
+might be an hour hence. The flood continued to rise about the old
+house. Sam’s observations from the window were confirmed by Orkney, who
+felt his way down the stairs, but only to return with word that the
+water was encountered half-way down the flight.
+
+Again Sam felt the responsibility which falls to a leader. He whispered
+a word in Lon’s ear; and Lon, good fellow that he was, did his best
+to cheer his companions. He racked his memory for tales of Dominie
+Pike and his exploits, and embroidered the traditions with his own
+inventions, perhaps, for quaint tales they were which he told of the
+pioneer days in Sugar Valley. Sam noted that Tom Orkney was especially
+interested. Varley, too, put an occasional question; but there was
+nothing to indicate that the Shark was at all attentive.
+
+Sam, presently, crept to the Shark’s side. Lon was in the midst of a
+yarn, and was talking loudly; there was small danger that a whispered
+conversation would be overheard.
+
+“Oh, Shark!” Sam spoke very softly.
+
+“Eh? What?” The Shark’s response was in like tone.
+
+“I’ve been wondering--say! ought to be some limit to this sort of
+thing--rise of the river, I mean. What’s your notion?”
+
+“Pure conjecture!” Low as the reply was, it had a shade of testiness.
+
+“I know--but what’s your conjecture? Your line, you know--figuring--all
+that.”
+
+The Shark considered briefly. “Well, I’ll tell you, Sam. Something’s
+happened.”
+
+“Don’t need to tell me that!” growled Sam.
+
+“You don’t understand. I mean, something’s happened more than a common
+spring freshet. The rain and the melting snow filled the river, as I
+saw, and as you must have seen, too. But ordinarily the river takes
+care of the most of the water--the Grants spoke as if there’d been
+little trouble in other years. This time, though--well, you know how
+much snow there was, and how quickly it goes under a rain like this.
+And Mr. Grant said they’d been having the storm up-stream a good while
+before it hit us. One of the dams must have gone out--that’d account
+for the tidal wave--if you can call it that--which came rushing down
+the valley.”
+
+“I see,” said Sam. “It’s reasonable.”
+
+“Of course it is--I’m telling you,” said the Shark simply. “Listen now,
+though! If nothing else had happened, once the crest of the wave had
+passed, we’d have seen the water begin to go down. Why? Because the
+natural drainage would be taking care of it. Pour a pitcher of water
+into a set-bowl, when the plug isn’t in the outlet, and after a few
+seconds you’ll see the level lowering. Drop the plug in place, and the
+bowl stays full. And I tell you, Sam, Sugar Valley is a lot like a big
+bowl.”
+
+“But----”
+
+The Shark disregarded the interruption. “Hold on! Let me finish.
+There’s a plausible explanation of our fix. Our big bowl is plugged,
+and if it is, the plug is an ice jam. Remember how narrow the gorge is
+at the foot of the valley? Remember how the bridge piers clutter it up?
+Well, then! Plain as the nose on your face! River carries down a lot
+of big chunks. They pile up against the bridges and wedge together.
+Then along comes a lot of logs and floating riffraff to fill in the
+cracks. That’s how you get your dam that’ll turn the valley into a big
+pond. The water can’t run off, so it stays here and keeps rising and
+rising.”
+
+“But how much longer can it keep on rising?”
+
+“Can’t say. Lack data. As I recall that map, though, I don’t believe
+we’ve seen high water mark yet--not by a long shot!”
+
+“But the dam--if there is one----?”
+
+“Well, they mostly use dynamite to blow up ice jams. So I guess it’s a
+question of how soon somebody gets to this one with a cartridge.”
+
+Sam groaned. The Shark put out a hand in the darkness and caught his
+arm.
+
+“Nobody’s fault, this fix. Couldn’t get to high ground after that wave
+came along. Doubt if we could have made it before that--lot of low
+places in between. Nobody to blame. Sensible thing to stay here. That’s
+the whole story.”
+
+“I hope so,” said Sam very soberly. He shook off the hand, and moved to
+the window. Dark as the night was, he could not escape conviction that
+the water was still climbing higher and higher.
+
+Lon brought his story to a close, and there was silence in the room.
+It made all the more marked the noises without, the beat of the rain,
+the swirl of the flood against the house. There were other sounds,
+too, weird and mysterious, some faint and far off; others near at
+hand and still more disturbing. As for the house itself, it seemed to
+be straining like a ship in a storm, while it hardly needed a lively
+fancy to find in its shaking a hint of the trembling of a vessel’s
+hull under the pounding of big waves. Yet it was evident that the
+stout old building was withstanding the flood better than many a more
+modern and more lightly constructed house could have hoped to withstand
+it. Nevertheless, there was mighty complaint of beam and upright,
+which was not cheering to hear. Sam, listening and watchful, was a
+bit encouraged. The house might shake from roof to foundation, but it
+seemed to be coming to no harm. The huge chimney, doubtless, was like
+a brace to the entire structure.
+
+Even if the house stood, though, there remained another question to be
+answered: How long would the flood continue to rise?
+
+The Shark plainly feared that they were still far from the greatest
+peril from this source. Sam had to own that the fear might be
+justified. The suggestion of an ice jam and ice dam at the foot of the
+valley could not be verified, of course, but it was possible to gauge
+the steady rise of the water. Sam made the stairs a practical register.
+From time to time he ventured down them, and regularly found the
+invading flood a little higher than before.
+
+The hours wore away slowly. At intervals some one or another of the
+refugees announced the time, striking a match ostensibly in order to
+glance at his watch, but taking remarkable care to save the tiny flame
+as long as possible. Everybody craved light. Lack of it was, in fact,
+the hardest part of the ordeal. Warmth, too, would have been welcome,
+but the night was not cold and the need of a fire was felt less acutely
+than the dispiriting effect of the dense darkness.
+
+Talk was intermittent. Now and again somebody would rouse to interest
+in some aspect of their situation, and perhaps stir his neighbors to
+join in a discussion, and Lon told a dozen stories; but there were
+half-hours when nobody spoke. Sam, with his sense of responsibility
+strong upon him, studied his companions. The Shark caused him little
+concern. Silent meditation was quite in keeping with the habits of the
+mathematical youth, and Sam had no reason to doubt his nerve in case of
+grave emergency.
+
+Varley was more puzzling. Unquestionably the city boy was under a
+greater strain than his comrades, because of the entire novelty of his
+surroundings. The others knew more or less about abandoned farmhouses,
+but such a place as the Dominie Pike homestead was wholly strange to
+Paul. Seemingly, he was of good courage, and his conduct won Sam’s
+approving respect.
+
+Oddly enough, Tom Orkney presented another problem. Tom ordinarily
+was a reticent, self-contained fellow; but this night he took a
+leading share in the talk. He appeared to be intensely interested in
+everything he could learn about the old Dominie, and plied Lon with
+queries. Finally, he borrowed the Shark’s stump of pine wood, lighted
+it, and began a careful examination of the room. This finished, he
+restored the torch to its owner and guardian, who promptly extinguished
+the flame and stowed the precious remnant in an inside pocket of his
+jacket.
+
+“Well, found out anything?” Sam asked, as Tom dropped beside him.
+
+“I don’t know--I’m not certain,” Orkney answered slowly. “Somehow,
+though, I think I’ve got a line or two. I believe this room was the
+Dominie’s own--his study, maybe.”
+
+“What! An up-stairs study?”
+
+“Sounds unreasonable, I’ll admit, considering the plain living of the
+old days. But there’s a fireplace, and it looks as if there was a sort
+of closet on each side of the chimney, or hiding place--I don’t know
+exactly what to call it. What makes me think so? Well, I can’t be sure,
+but I suspect there’s wood fitted in among the bricks and made to look
+just like them. Anyway, that’s the feel of it!”
+
+“The feel?” Sam asked skeptically.
+
+“Try it yourself. Come along--I’ll show you,” said Orkney, and got
+upon his feet. Sam, too, rose.
+
+Orkney made his way back to the chimney, Sam following. There, under
+Tom’s direction, he groped about the brickwork, without arriving at any
+clear conclusion.
+
+“If I could see anything, it would be different,” he remarked. “But
+this thing--say, my fingers are numb, anyway! I can’t feel anything but
+clammy dampness. But what’s the idea you’re working on?”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know--sort of a notion--a hunch, maybe.”
+
+“What kind of a hunch?
+
+“It--it’s pretty vague,” Orkney confessed.
+
+Sam, not deeply impressed but willing enough that Orkney should find
+even such diversion, moved back to the window. From sounds which
+proceeded, presently, from the direction of the chimney he inferred
+that Tom had taken out his knife and was scratching away at the
+old mortar. After a little, however, he lost consciousness of this
+activity, and, indeed, of a good deal more; for he fell into an uneasy
+doze.
+
+Subsequently on comparing notes, the boys had to admit, one and all,
+that in spite of their perils they caught some sleep in the course of
+the night. Probably all of them slept longer than they realized. Sam,
+at any rate, must have passed from doze to sound slumber; for when he
+was awakened by a tremendous crash there was a second or two in which
+he did not realize where he was or how he came to be there. The old
+house was still trembling violently from the concussion, as well as
+from a series of minor blows, as the object which had collided with
+it was carried along, grinding and pounding against the side of the
+building.
+
+In the room there was something closely akin to panic for a moment.
+Varley shouted wildly for help. Lon was scrambling to the window. Sam
+heard Orkney cry out, and caught distinctly the Shark’s shrill whistle,
+and close-following comment:
+
+“Whew! There’s bulk, with momentum, for you! Say, what was it?”
+
+Sam found himself peering over Lon’s shoulder. Certainly there was a
+slight lessening of the darkness. He could make out dimly a black mass
+drifting by.
+
+“Great Scott! but that must be one o’ them big barges from the brick
+yards!” Lon groaned. “Use ’em to freight the bricks down to the
+railroad, they do. But the yards are up above the big dam. If that’s
+one o’ their boats, it means that dam has gone out as well as the
+little fellow we’ve been figgerin’ on. Jeewhillikens! but this is a
+reg’lar granddaddy of a flood! Must be, for they haul the barges out
+winters, and the one that hit us must ’a’ been well up the bank. And
+look how the water’s riz, anyhow!”
+
+Sam looked; that is, he gazed as at a dark curtain, and saw a pale
+glimmer just discernible at what he estimated to be but a few
+inches below the level of the upper floor. As he was continuing his
+observations, Orkney plucked at his sleeve.
+
+“That jolt pretty nearly got to us, Sam. I’ve been scouting out in the
+hall. I couldn’t see much, but it looks as if the whole corner had been
+torn out of the room on the other side. And the house--what’s left of
+it, I mean, is askew. Floor of the hall’s tilted like a hillside.”
+
+Sam made reconnaissance for himself, and found that Tom had by no
+means exaggerated the conditions. He returned to the room, to discover
+that Orkney was again scratching at the chimney. From the neighborhood
+of the window Lon spoke:
+
+“Boys, I dunno but we’ll have to move along pooty soon--water sure is
+climbin’ and climbin’. So as I hate to take a jump in the dark, as you
+might say, I guess I’ll go scoutin’ for some road that leads higher,
+too. Jest you wait here, and I’ll let you know what I find out.”
+
+In a moment more they could hear him in the hall; but several minutes
+passed before he called out to the Shark to bring him what was left of
+the torch. The Shark obeyed; and, presently, there was a creak of rusty
+hinges, and Lon called out cheerily:
+
+“It’s all right! Attic stairs jest about where I cal’lated they ought
+to be. That’s enough of the light, son. Put it out and save the pieces
+till we need ’em again.”
+
+Then back came Lon and his torch-bearer to join Sam and Varley and
+Orkney in the nerve-testing task of waiting for the steadily rising
+flood to drive them from their refuge.
+
+How long they waited none of them knew. To Sam it seemed to be hours
+and hours before a chance movement of his was marked by the splash
+of his foot in water. Through the open door a tidy little stream was
+pouring into the room from the hall.
+
+Now the old house was creaking and groaning, and without were all the
+noises of the storm, but not one of the party missed that splash or
+misunderstood its meaning.
+
+“Heh! Time to go, ain’t it?” Lon tried to speak lightly, but his tone
+betrayed his excitement.
+
+“Yes, it’s time,” Sam said; his voice, too, was shaking.
+
+“All right! Light up, Shark,” Lon directed. “You and me’ll go ahead,
+seein’ as how we know the way. Rest o’ you keep clost to us.”
+
+The Shark’s torch was but an inch or two of blackened, resinous pine,
+and its flame was no greater than that of a toy candle. Still, it
+enabled Sam to observe Orkney digging away at the bricks of the chimney
+with furious haste.
+
+“Drop that, Tom, and come along,” he called.
+
+Orkney gave no heed to the summons. Instead, he worked more desperately
+than ever.
+
+“Give me time! I--I’m getting there!” he declared.
+
+The Shark was moving toward the door. The faint beams of his torch
+quite failed to reach the spot where Orkney stood. Sam had no notion
+of what Tom might be about, but he had strongly developed opinions on
+the unwisdom of tarrying. He strode across the room, grasped Orkney’s
+shoulder. The other resisted briefly. In a vague way Sam conjectured
+that he was groping about the chimney. Also he remembered, afterward,
+that Orkney uttered a queer little exclamation, which seemed to betoken
+satisfaction, then ceased his resistance.
+
+“Come on!” Sam urged, and Orkney came. Possibly Sam felt rather than
+saw that Tom was thrusting something into the protection of his closely
+buttoned coat; but what was of far greater immediate importance was the
+depth of the invading water, through which they had to wade. It was
+ankle-deep in the half-wrecked hall; it was over the lower step of the
+steep and narrow stair leading to the attic, up which Lon and Varley
+already had passed.
+
+The Shark, standing at the foot of the flight and cherishing his feeble
+beacon, growled his opinion of those who delayed.
+
+“What you fellows dillydallying for? Think I’m a government lighthouse
+that’s bound to keep going, anyway? This thing’s nothing but one coal,
+and it’s getting to me--ouch! I can’t keep on holding it till daylight!”
+
+Sam and Orkney, thus exhorted, quickened their pace. But as they did
+so, Lon raised a shout, in which was a ring of jubilation:
+
+“Hullo, everybody! Speakin’ o’ daylight, I can see something that’s
+mighty good for my sore eyes. What is it, eh? Well, it’s where there
+used to be roof, and where there ain’t any roof left now. But in place
+of it is jest the cheerfulest patch o’ mighty nigh washed out dawn that
+ever showed over to the east’ard. It’s mornin’, boys, or ’twill be in a
+few shakes of a lamb’s tail. Oh, well, see for yourselves then, if you
+ain’t willin’ to believe me.”
+
+The Shark dropped his torch--it went out with a hiss in the pool at
+his feet--and raced up the stair. Orkney and Sam dashed after him.
+
+What Lon had told them was true. An end of the roof was
+missing--carried away, perhaps, by the barge. And there the sky showed
+gray and dull, yet with the early dawn upon it.
+
+No doubt the attic was even more cheerless, otherwise, than the
+room they had just quitted, but that patch of light made amends for
+everything. What if the drenching rain had poured through the break
+until the place were half-afloat? What if here the tumult of the storm
+and of the flood were louder and more menacing than ever? The darkness
+had been the direst of their troubles, and now it was about to be ended.
+
+The missing segment of roof extended close to the floor at one end. Sam
+had no trouble in looking out. And he it was who made a discovery, at
+which he raised a cry as jubilant as Lon’s had been but a moment before.
+
+Under the gray sky the flooded river spread like a black lake all about
+them. But close at hand, drifting directly toward the house, was that
+which he longed most to see.
+
+“A boat! A boat!”
+
+His call brought his companions to his side. Eagerly they gazed, and
+joined in a chorus of hails to the navigators. There were two of these.
+Each had been sitting huddled on a thwart; each roused to activity
+at sound of human voices, and, catching up a piece of board, fell to
+paddling wildly.
+
+The Shark needed spectacles to improve his vision, yet it fell to his
+lot to be first to recognize the boatmen.
+
+“Jupiter Crickets! Poke and Step!” he gasped; and in his tone was more
+bewilderment than delight.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX WHAT BEFELL POKE AND STEP
+
+
+It will be recalled that in the division of forces for the search
+Herman Boyd and the Trojan were detailed to follow the road down the
+valley, making inquiries at each house and seeking news of the missing
+Shark and Varley.
+
+This duty they performed conscientiously, but wholly without result.
+
+Nobody had seen or heard anything of the pair. From each house which
+was provided with a telephone the boys made report to Mrs. Grant and
+learned from her that seemingly the other hunters were having no better
+fortune. More than once they were advised to give up their task and
+accept shelter and refreshment; but they declined the invitations and
+resumed their march. What is more, they did not restrict themselves to
+inquiries of the residents, but now and then made a detour toward the
+river. It was to be observed, as they neared the foot of the valley,
+that the lowlands were flooded in many places. The boys agreed that
+their prospects of success were not bright, but neither was willing to
+turn back.
+
+“We’ll keep on as far as the bridges, anyway,” the Trojan said. “Sam’d
+expect us to do that much.”
+
+Herman nodded. “He’d keep on, if he were here.”
+
+“Sure he would!”
+
+“Yes, old Sam’s a sticker.”
+
+“Then we’ll be stickers, too: we won’t fail him.”
+
+This decided, they continued their tramp. And while they went splashing
+and sloshing along the road, which was by no means a poor imitation of
+a canal in places, Step and Poke, heading in the opposite direction,
+were having a very similar experience.
+
+The tall youth and his plump chum were quite as much in earnest as
+were Herman and the Trojan, but temperamentally were not so well
+fitted to carry out a commander’s orders implicitly. Besides, under
+the depressing weather conditions, Poke could hardly avoid meditation
+upon the sorrows of his own lot. With rain driving in his face and
+snow water at times a quarter-way up the legs of his rubber boots, it
+is scarcely to be wondered that he tended to the pessimistic view. To
+tell the truth, Poke liked the comfortable things of life, and turned
+regretfully from the warm kitchens of the farmhouses at which he halted
+to ask the question, to which there was regularly the same answer.
+Nobody had seen a smallish boy in glasses and a larger boy who didn’t
+wear glasses.
+
+Trudging on, doggedly and faithfully, Poke relapsed into a dull
+silence, which at last attracted the attention of Step. The latter
+was not unmindful of his friend’s mood; in fact, he tried to show his
+sympathy. Ordinarily, the two got on famously, but now Step contrived
+to strike a jarring note.
+
+“Oh, buck up, Poke; buck up!” he urged. “Luck’ll have to turn. You
+ought to be able to see that.”
+
+Now, this was meant in all kindness, but it did not fall pleasingly on
+Poke’s ear. Doubtless the fault was his own, not Step’s.
+
+“Huh! Talk’s cheap!” he growled.
+
+Step flushed wrathfully. “Oh, well, if you don’t want to see, you don’t
+have to, you chump!”
+
+“Huh! Chump, am I? Well, if I had a periscope-pole neck like yours I
+could see a lot of funny things, too.”
+
+This was personal insult, so intended and so received. Step pulled up
+short.
+
+“Periscope neck, eh? Well, I’d rather have one like that than be a
+human flat-iron!”
+
+Poke halted, too. He glared up at Step as savagely as Step was glaring
+down at him. Together they presented a quaint scene of wrath, standing
+there in slush to their ankles and with the rain running down their
+long coats in little streams. The humor of the situation escaped Poke,
+but he was quick witted enough to take advantage of the circumstance
+that Step had been first to pause. He cut short his own delay, and took
+as long a stride as his short legs permitted.
+
+“That’s right--be a quitter!” he said over his shoulder. “Anything to
+get out of hunting for Varley and the Shark, of course!”
+
+Step was beside him in an instant. “Quitter, eh?” he snarled. “We’ll
+see who’ll be first to lay down his playthings in this game!”
+
+“Oh, then you haven’t really laid them down, eh?” said Poke with crafty
+sweetness. “Isn’t it too bad it looked so much like that?”
+
+Step merely gritted his teeth in reply, and set a pace which put Poke
+into a dog-trot to keep abreast of him.
+
+It was, of course, the most trivial of quarrels, but like some other
+trifles in life fated to have consequences out of all ratio to its
+real importance. It made both boys determined to go on with the hunt
+without much regard for reason. Also it brought it about that when in
+the growing darkness the flood came sweeping down the valley in a fine
+wave, Poke and Step were still marching along, each more intent upon
+wearing out the other than upon keeping keen watch for danger.
+
+Luckily, the roar of the approaching water gave even these preoccupied
+youths some warning. Luckily, too, though the road they were then
+traveling was close to the river, they were near a tiny hillock on
+which stood a shed such as farmers sometimes build in remote fields to
+protect stock or tools. Poke and Step dashed for its shelter, and were
+well above the wave as it went raging down the valley. However, it left
+them on what was now an island, safe for the time being, but cut off
+from the shore by a hundred yards or more of deeply inundated swale.
+
+Poke clutched Step, and Step clung to Poke, their bickering forgotten
+and peace restored. In a moment they were as thoroughly comradely
+as Herman and the Trojan, who three or four miles down the valley
+watched, or, more accurately, heard the sweep of the wave down the
+stream. Chance had put the Trojan and his companion, at the time on the
+hillside, well above the flood level. In the faint light they could
+make out little except that the stream, of a sudden, was over its
+banks; but while they were pausing, uncertain what to do, Mr. Grant’s
+hired man drove up. He could give them no information except that he
+had been instructed to carry on the inquiry for the Shark and Varley at
+the gorge at the mouth of the valley. They held a short consultation,
+agreeing that the man should go on as far as he could, the road at this
+point being well above high water mark, while the boys turned back. By
+keeping to the hillside they would be able to regain the Grant place,
+and on the way they could continue the search for traces of the missing
+pair.
+
+For Poke and Step, however, no such solution of their problem was
+possible. They were effectually marooned. Neither felt tempted to
+venture to swim to the shore. They put their heads together, debated
+briefly, and agreed that there was nothing to do but to make the best
+of the situation.
+
+The roof of the shed leaked abominably, but at one end they found a
+comparatively dry spot, and here, too, they made a discovery. Against
+the wall lay a boat, bottom up, evidently in storage for the winter.
+It was a home-made affair; a punt, broad, flat-bottomed, square-ended;
+built of heavy planks and generally so clumsy and weighty that they
+were unable to move it, though they put all their strength into the
+effort.
+
+“No use!” groaned Step, and now it was Poke who took the rôle of
+comforter.
+
+“Well, I don’t see any oars, so it doesn’t matter very much.... What’s
+that? Don’t want to stay here all night, you say? Well, I don’t want
+to, either; but I’m not going to worry about it. Maybe something will
+turn up.”
+
+Step dismally pointed a number of very good reasons for doubting that
+anything could turn up to their advantage; but Poke declined to lose
+heart.
+
+“I know, I know!” he said. “Luck’s against us just now--guess I’m a
+regular Jonah, anyway. But it’ll have to turn--say! I’m not sure but it
+has turned.”
+
+“How?” Step demanded skeptically.
+
+Poke waved a hand at the dark flood. “Suppose that had caught us. This
+is no picnic, you’re thinking? I tell you it’s a party compared with
+being out in that mess. Goodness knows, I’ve got troubles enough in
+life, but I’m not quite ready to be drowned yet!”
+
+“Well, I’m not, either,” Step admitted. “Only--only I do wish it’d stay
+light a little longer.”
+
+“With you there!” cried Poke earnestly.
+
+The gloom, in fact, was for the chums--as for the larger party in the
+old house--the most insistent of the night’s discomforts. It was worse
+than the pelting rain, from which, indeed, they had found shelter of
+a sort; it was worse than the chill of the air which increased as the
+night advanced, for they could huddle together for warmth. It even
+seemed to offer more menacing perils than the steadily rising flood,
+whose approach to the summit of the hillock it concealed. How Step and
+Poke endured the dragging hours can better be imagined than described.
+They had their alarms--many of them. Mysterious sounds came from the
+bosom of the flood; an owl hooted sepulchrally; occasionally a squall
+swept by, whistling shrilly about the shed. There were long intervals,
+though, in which they heard only the monotonous beat of the rain and
+a sound very like a heavy murmur from the river; and at such times
+weariness took its toll, and both boys slept, fitfully, brokenly and
+restlessly.
+
+Rather oddly, neither of them suspected the manner in which the waters
+were creeping toward their refuge. Neither had the mathematical bent of
+the Shark to work out a theory of a valley like a plugged bowl; and so,
+while they were perfectly aware of the discomforts of their situation
+and while they were full of anxiety as to the fate of their friends,
+the discovery, at last, that the still rising river was invading the
+shed came with surprise as well as consternation.
+
+They turned again to the boat, and made desperate efforts to drag it
+out; but in this they were hampered and handicapped by the darkness.
+They did succeed in turning it on its side, but there it stuck, in
+spite of all their efforts.
+
+Now came a new cause of alarm. Some shift in the current began to
+swerve drifting objects toward their island. A score or more of big
+logs, freed by the breaking of some boom up-stream, came like a fleet
+of rams to batter the walls of the rickety structure. By this time the
+water was more than knee deep on the highest part of the earth floor of
+the shed, and Poke and Step were perched in insecurity on a pile of old
+boxes in a corner. The only alleviating feature of their situation was
+a lessening of the darkness with the coming of the dull dawn; but it
+was still a faint twilight which was all about them when the end of the
+shed came.
+
+Another lot of logs, traveling with even more momentum than the first
+flotilla, seemed to charge upon them. One tore a great hole in the shed
+wall; a second ripped away an end. Then a huge timber lodged against an
+upright of the framework, and with the full force of the flood behind
+it, turned like a beam of a great derrick, carrying away what was left
+of the roof, tearing out the wall as if it had been made of paper, and
+completing the ruin of the shed. The pile of boxes was tossed aside,
+and Poke and Step were pitched into the water.
+
+The big log, though, served them a good turn as well as a bad one.
+Their asylum was gone, but the boat had been set afloat by the blow,
+and, what was still better, was floating right side up. Half full of
+water as it was, it was a very ark of safety to the boys, who climbed
+aboard just as the current seized it and carried it free of the
+wreckage.
+
+For a moment or two the voyagers were content to sit still and regain
+breath. Then, pluckily, they set about improving the opportunity for
+escape which Fortune had thrown in their way.
+
+There were no oars aboard, but Step tore a broken thwart from its
+fastenings. One piece of the board he gave to Poke and another he
+himself put over the side. Both boys fell to paddling frantically--but
+to small avail. The punt was heavy, clumsy, water-logged. The paddles
+were the poorest of excuses. It was all they could do to swing the
+blunt bow of the boat toward the dimly visible shore; and after ten
+minutes’ hard, but vain, endeavor the chums ceased their labors.
+
+Their plight now was distressful, though possibly having less of
+peril than had threatened them on their temporary island. Their ark,
+if unmanageable, kept afloat, and was stout enough to be in no great
+danger from collision with other flotsam borne along by the current.
+They were in water half-way to their knees, but even if the boat
+filled, its wooden bulk promised sufficient buoyancy to support them.
+
+“Sooner or later we’ll have to drift ashore--somewhere,” Poke remarked
+philosophically. “Kind of like the stone you chuck in the air--‘What
+goes up must come down,’ you know. And this isn’t the ocean--we’ll
+make land after a while.”
+
+[Illustration: “WE’LL HAVE TO DRIFT ASHORE SOMEWHERE”]
+
+“Huh! Don’t make out any now!” croaked Step.
+
+Poke made deliberate survey. The light was still dim; low lying, gray
+clouds seemed to merge in thin mists, through which only vaguely could
+the shore be discerned. The rain had decreased somewhat, but it was
+like a veil in hiding distant objects. There were, to be sure, other
+objects near at hand, which under happier conditions the voyagers must
+have found interesting. Keeping pace with the boat, and not fifty feet
+away, drifted an overturned wagon. Trailing this came a pagoda-like
+summer-house, at the head of a fleet of chicken coops, boxes and
+barrels. Farther still from the boat floated the roof of a barn. All
+about them the boys saw planks, logs, a section of wooden fence,
+limbs torn from trees, doors, odds and ends of furniture; anything,
+in fact, which the flood could bear along. A squirrel, perched on a
+log, chattered at them; a cat, crouched on a big packing-case, mewed
+piteously. Beyond the case they could see the body of a cow, still held
+by a halter to the shed in which she had been drowned, and which now
+was sweeping down the stream.
+
+Except for the current there was more suggestion of lake than river;
+though the trees protruding above the water added a weird touch to the
+picture, which differed markedly from that of any lake either boy ever
+had seen. Even the philosophy of Poke was not proof against the effects
+of such evidences of destruction. He huddled himself lower, and his
+voice shook.
+
+“I--I--say, this is pretty fierce, Step! Things must have been awful
+for the folks up above.”
+
+“They’re awful enough for the folks here!” groaned Step.
+
+Then there was a long pause. The light strengthened, but slowly, very
+slowly. Neither of the boys took pains to maintain a vigilant lookout;
+and so it happened that they were sighted from the old house before
+they were aware of the attic still protruding above the flood.
+
+Roused to action by the shouts of Sam and his comrades, they caught
+up their extemporized paddles and fell to work as for dear life. Had
+the boat not been drifting almost directly toward the house, however,
+it is much to be doubted if they could have brought it alongside. As
+things were, they accomplished the feat, the side of the punt crunching
+against the roof just where Sam and his friends were gathered.
+
+Then a curious complication arose. It was eloquent testimony to the
+slight confidence or liking either party had for its quarter; for as
+the boys in the house tried to scramble into the boat, Poke and Step
+leaped wildly for the break in the roof. In consequence, Poke and the
+Shark collided, and pitched together to the floor of the attic, while
+Step and Orkney, clinging to each other, reeled against Lon with such
+force as to drive him back from the opening.
+
+Sam and Varley chanced to be a little to one side. This kept them free
+of the unintentional mêlée, but, at the same time, put them farther
+from the boat, which, helped, no doubt, by the impetus of Poke and
+Step’s leaps, edged away from the house.
+
+It would be hard to say which was the quicker to grasp the danger
+of losing the boat. Both sprang forward; both tried to grasp the
+gunwale--and both failed by inches.
+
+Then Varley did a thing which may have been rash, but the daring of
+which was not to be denied. Like a flash he whipped off his greatcoat;
+vaulted the wreck of wall; plunged into the flood; caught the side of
+the boat. Sam, no laggard in such an emergency, leaned out and seized
+Varley by the leg. In an instant his call for Lon brought help. The big
+punt was heavy; the current was beginning to lay hold upon it again.
+For a little it seemed to be impossible that Varley should be able to
+retain his grasp on the rail or that Lon and Sam should be able to haul
+in their human cable; then, inch by inch, they began to gain. The boat
+was dragged within reach. Orkney and the Shark, by this time clear of
+Step and Poke, held it fast, while Sam hauled Varley out of the water.
+
+“Get aboard--quick--everybody!” Sam cried, and helped Varley to obey
+the order. Then he turned and caught Step’s shoulder.
+
+“Pile in! Hustle Poke, too! It’s our only chance!”
+
+Step resisted. “Wait a minute, Sam! There are no oars. You can’t do
+anything. You can’t----”
+
+Sam half pitched the objector into the punt. Poke, taking the hint,
+followed, unassisted.
+
+Lon ripped up a narrow floor-board.
+
+“Here’s oars in the makin’,” he shouted. “All aboard--everybody that’s
+goin’!”
+
+There was no need of further exhortation. In thirty seconds more the
+Safety First Club was afloat, and the boat was again beginning to drift
+away from the old house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX THE PRIZE SNATCHED FROM THE FLOOD
+
+
+Lon’s floor-board gave material for three rough-and-ready paddles,
+short, awkward to handle, yet more or less serviceable. Lon himself
+kept one, Orkney took another, and Varley laid claim to the third.
+
+“I’ve got to keep my blood circulating,” he explained. “Thought I was
+pretty well dampened before that last go, but now--whew! Say, I’d like
+to be run through a clothes wringer just as I stand. Next best thing’ll
+be working at something.”
+
+Sam also had stretched out a hand for the third paddle, but Lon ruled
+in favor of Paul.
+
+“Varley, you can have anything I’ve got!” he said warmly. “That
+leap-for-life, floatin’ trapeze stunt you done was amazin’ good
+medicine for this crowd; for my notion is, the old river ain’t got
+done risin’, and it ain’t got to do much more comin’ up in the world to
+clean swamp that garret. Good, quick action o’ yourn, son, good quick
+action, I tell you!”
+
+“Oh, I don’t know,” said Paul modestly. “It--well, it just seemed to be
+a good idea. I--I hated, somehow, to lose the boat; though maybe the
+flood won’t go much higher.”
+
+“No; Lon’s right.” It was the Shark who spoke, with all his customary
+brusqueness. “Liable to be ten feet more of a rise. How do I know? How
+do you know anything? Figure it out, don’t you? Just what I did! If the
+mouth of the valley is dammed--must be, or the river would have behaved
+better--the water’ll keep on rising till it’s over the top of the dam.
+And from the levels as the map gave ’em, and the height of the bridge
+piers, as I recalled ’em----”
+
+Sam caught him by the shoulder. “Look here, Shark! Do you mean you’d
+figured all that out, and then didn’t tell us?”
+
+The Shark wriggled free. “Huh! What’d have been the good of telling?
+Just would have worried you fellows some more--wouldn’t have helped
+anything or anybody. You’re all right in your way, but you don’t seem
+to be able to get any comfort out of calculations that go into three or
+more figures. So if I’d said anything, you’d have wanted to know why
+I said it, and when I tried to explain, you wouldn’t have understood.
+But if you’re so set on having me say something now, I’ll tell you that
+we’d better make shore. Current’s taking us down-stream, and I won’t
+guarantee how long the ice dam will hold. Don’t want to go over it, or
+through it, do you? Well then!”
+
+“Jumpin’ Jupiter, but that’s sense!” ejaculated Lon, and fell to
+paddling.
+
+Orkney and Varley followed the example. Step and Poke found the pieces
+of the broken thwart and added their mite. The Shark stared ahead. Sam,
+for a moment, was without occupation, but then he pulled off his cap
+and began to bail out some of the water in the boat. With the increased
+number of passengers a leak or two had developed.
+
+There is no craft more difficult to manage than a flat-bottomed,
+square-ended punt, deep in the water, and in the grasp of a strong
+current. Naturally enough, the attempt was made to steer for the
+nearer bank, the one on which was the Grant farmhouse. It resulted in a
+sort of diagonal drift, in which a dozen feet were made down-stream for
+every foot of approach to land. Sometimes the boat was fairly across
+the current, sometimes her nose pointed almost directly down the river.
+More than once collision with floating débris threw her off her course.
+In short, she might have been compared to a crippled and bulky-bodied
+beetle, struggling with broken legs to swim to the shore of a stream
+into which it had fallen. But as the beetle, by virtue of hard work,
+draws nearer the land, so the big punt edged away from the swifter
+current of mid-stream. Presently she was scraping through the boughs
+of a young grove, the trees of which were submerged to their tops. The
+Shark, playing lookout man, sang out his news:
+
+“Hullo! There’s the Grants’ house! We’re just about abreast of it.”
+
+The paddlers toiled harder than ever, but Sam paused a moment in his
+bailing. The light had strengthened; he had no trouble in making out
+the house and the big barns near by. As well as he could determine,
+the flood had not invaded the homestead, though it seemed to have
+reached the road in front of the place.
+
+Lon and his crew tried to arrest the drift down-stream; observing
+which, the Shark spoke oracularly:
+
+“Don’t try too hard to hold her on the mark! Keep her going, and see if
+we don’t strike an eddy pretty soon. My guess is we will.”
+
+Step had little breath to spare, but he used some of it in speech.
+
+“What’s that?” he gasped. “You ‘guess’? Thought math-mathematicians
+never guessed, but always were sure!”
+
+Round whipped the Shark, bristling. “Mathematics nothing! This is just
+common sense. I’m counting on the chances of being right about an ice
+jam down below. If it’s damming up the water, you’ll find some of the
+surplus that can’t get through or over the obstruction forced back
+along the edges, while the freshet keeps on pouring more water down the
+middle. Seen how the water whirligigs in a bowl, haven’t you, when you
+turn on the faucet? Well, then?”
+
+Step might have made answer, but Poke thumped him on the back.
+
+“Cut it out!” the plump youth advised. “This is no debate; it’s a job!”
+
+Step grunted, and fell to paddling again. The Shark shrugged his
+shoulders, and resumed his observation; thought it was his privilege,
+very speedily, to utter the words the most self-restrained of mortals
+can’t deny themselves sometimes:
+
+“There! What did I tell you? We’ve hit an eddy!”
+
+It was true, and true beyond question. The lateral motion of the boat
+was now up-stream rather than down; and there was no longer difficulty
+in keeping the house over her square bow. Moreover, in the slack water
+the pace of the heavy craft seemed to increase. And again the Shark
+gave tidings:
+
+“Say, fellows, I can see folks! They’re waiting for us--right by the
+edge of the road just below the house. Mr. Grant’s there--and there’s
+another man--and hurrah! Herman and the Trojan! They’re both on deck,
+so all our crowd’s accounted for! And oh, I say! There’s Mrs. Grant
+hustling down from the house and waving a shawl or something like all
+possessed!”
+
+With such good news ringing in the ears of the crew, the big boat
+appeared fairly to jump forward. There was a mighty splashing along
+both sides, but what the paddlers lacked in art they made up in energy.
+From the shore came cries of welcome and eager query, but everybody on
+the punt was too busy to make reply. Then there was more splashing, as
+the Trojan and Herman, with Mr. Grant close behind them, dashed into
+the water to meet the voyagers. They caught the gunwale of the boat and
+dragged the craft forward till she grounded. And then the Shark laid
+hold upon Mr. Grant.
+
+“There is an ice jam, isn’t there?” he demanded. “Big one, too?”
+
+“Biggest ever heard of in these parts! Both bridges knocked off their
+piers and all tangled up with the ice. That’s what raised hob when the
+dams up-river began to go out, and let down all the water. Railroad’s
+sent for its wrecking crew, and it’s coming with dynamite to blow open
+a channel, and----”
+
+The Shark was discourteous enough not to wait for the completion of
+the sentence. He turned triumphantly to his comrades in general and to
+Step in particular.
+
+“Hear that, did you? Josh me about guessing, would you? Huh! I’ll guess
+again, and the guess is that the fellow who has the last laugh gets the
+best one. Huh!”
+
+With that the Shark stepped ashore, avoided the outstretched arms of
+Mrs. Grant, and fell prey to the Trojan, who splashed out of the river
+as joyously as he had splashed into it. The Trojan and Herman had had
+a night of terrible anxiety, but had escaped any adventures such as
+had befallen the rest of the club. Maybe there was a touch of envy in
+the demands upon the Shark for his story--which, by the way, the Shark
+did not relate. Indeed, there was for a little too much confusion for
+anybody to offer a coherent narrative; and then Mrs. Grant was urging
+the party up the slope to the porch, and into the house, where open
+fires burned cheerily, and where there was a wonderfully delicious odor
+of boiling coffee and cooking viands.
+
+The big house seemed to have an unlimited store of dry garments. Mrs.
+Grant brought them by the armful into the living-room, and made
+proclamation:
+
+“Listen to me, everybody! You men folks can have this room to
+yourselves while Hannah and I dish up the breakfast. It’ll be ready
+for you the minute you’re all in dry things; and I reckon you’ll find
+enough to go around. Don’t mind looks or fit, and don’t stop to primp.
+And here’s a lot of good rough towels--you’ll need a rub-down to take
+out the chill. Don’t you keep me waiting, and I won’t keep you waiting,
+either!”
+
+She was turning to the door, but Sam stopped her. As head of the Safety
+First Club, he had learned some valuable lessons in thoughtfulness for
+others.
+
+“Just a minute, please, Mrs. Grant!” he begged. “Our folks in town--do
+they know we’re all right, or have they heard anything about--about our
+being out all night?”
+
+Mrs. Grant shook her head vigorously. “Not a syllable have they had,
+good or bad, welcome or worrying! The telephone broke down about eight
+o’clock last night, and I tell you, boys, I never was so glad of such
+an accident before. If any of your mothers had called me up--mercy,
+but I don’t know what I could have said or done! There, there! Let me
+count you again. Let’s see! Five, six, seven, eight--yes, you’re all
+here, thank the stars!”
+
+Lon heaved a burlesque sigh. “Oh, my, my! And I ain’t even figgered in
+the census no more!”
+
+Mrs. Grant laughed very cheerfully. “Oh, you’ll figure, Lon Gates, but
+I sort of put you in the ought-to-have-known-better class.”
+
+Lon bowed deeply. “Thanky for the compliment, ma’am. I don’t get so
+many of ’em that I recognize ’em any easier than old man Plympton uster
+recognize his fust wife’s third cousins when they came fishin’ for an
+invitation to dinner, for old times’ sake, his fourth bein’ a mighty
+fine cook, if I say it as shouldn’t, she bein’ kin o’ mine.”
+
+“Well, if that’s what you call a compliment, I guess you have got out
+of practice entertaining ’em,” chuckled Mrs. Grant. “But now get into
+dry clothes, every man Jack of you!” And out she bustled, closing the
+door behind her.
+
+For ten minutes the living-room resembled nothing so much as the
+locker room of an athletic field. Crowding before the fire, the boys
+ripped off their wet garments, plied the big towels vigorously, and
+then, warm and glowing, slipped into the emergency costumes awaiting
+them. The results surely were picturesque, but nobody minded trifles
+like a shirt three sizes too big or trousers that came only a little
+below knees.
+
+“Ready?” called Mrs. Grant from the dining-room.
+
+Sam ran an eye over his company. Poke wagged his head solemnly.
+
+“In all my life,” he said, “I never knew before what being really ready
+for a square meal was!”
+
+“Yes, ready!” Sam reported; though, as he spoke, he saw that Tom
+Orkney, withdrawn a little from the others, was standing close to a
+window and inspecting something he held in his hand. Still, as Tom had
+made as full a toilette as anybody else, Sam saw no reason to delay on
+his account.
+
+“Yes, ma’am, ready!” he repeated more loudly.
+
+The door swung, and the boys trooped into the dining-room, Lon bearing
+them willing company. But while they feasted their eyes upon the
+well-spread table, their hostess was again making a count.
+
+“Six, seven--sakes alive! but there ought to be eight of you, not
+saying anything of Lon Gates, who’s quite big enough to speak for
+himself. And there’s only seven.” Mrs. Grant was moving toward the
+door. “Now what in the world----” she was looking into the living-room.
+“Oh, there you are! Goodness gracious, child, I should think you’d be
+famished!”
+
+Orkney thrust what he had been examining into an inner pocket of his
+coat. Then, blushing and embarrassed, he came forward.
+
+“I--I must have been so interested in--in something I found, I----”
+
+“Never mind it now, anyway! Sit right down, and let’s see if you won’t
+find breakfast interesting, too.”
+
+Tom took his place at the table; the others already had taken their
+places. Hannah, coffee-pot in hand, approached, and began to fill the
+cups.
+
+Every face brightened as the savory odor of the steaming coffee filled
+the room. Poke sighed, but it was a sigh of vast content.
+
+“My, my, but this is bully! Only I wish----” there he broke off
+abruptly and a bit sheepishly.
+
+“What are you wishing?” Mrs. Grant inquired solicitously.
+
+“Oh, it doesn’t matter, ma’am. I--I--it was just a fancy.”
+
+“What kind of a fancy? Tell us, do!”
+
+Poke reddened; he moved uneasily in his chair. “It--I guess it’s too
+foolish to talk about.”
+
+“But sometimes I like to hear things that may not be so foolish, after
+all.”
+
+The boy hesitated. Then, perceiving that the whole hungry party waited
+on an end of this interlude, he spoke, hastily and jerkily:
+
+“It’s a crazy notion, I know.... Folks don’t do it at breakfast, I
+suppose. But--but I couldn’t help remembering that perfectly corking
+buster of a mince pie we had yesterday, and wishing I’d come to it with
+the razor appetite I’ve got this minute. It was just a notion, you
+know, and----”
+
+There Mrs. Grant stopped him. “What did I tell you about foolish
+things that weren’t foolish?... Hannah! Bring it in--we’ll begin with
+it, instead of end with it.... And hurry, please do!”
+
+Away sped the maid to the kitchen, and Mrs. Grant again addressed her
+guests:
+
+“Some people poke fun at pie for breakfast, but over in Sugar Valley
+we have a better use for it--we eat it. And this morning I feel like
+eating it with special thankfulness for it and every other mercy and
+good thing in life. You boys are all alive--I’m going to hear all about
+how you happen to be alive, as soon as we’ve attended to having last
+night’s supper, and a go-to-bed snack, and this morning’s breakfast,
+all at once. The flood has swept the valley, and there has been a
+terrible lot of damage, but so far as we can hear, nobody has been
+drowned. And if we have to have new bridges down below--well, that’ll
+be a good thing, too; I’ve been mortal afraid of the old covered bridge
+lately--it was so rickety. So we’ll reckon up our mercies---- Right
+here, Hannah; I’ll cut it myself.”
+
+A chorus of exclamations rose from the boys. The maid had reappeared,
+bearing a pie as big, as magnificent, as nobly tinted as the wonder of
+the day before.
+
+“Jeeminy! the twin!” cried Step, admiringly.
+
+“Right!” said Mrs. Grant briskly. “The story goes, old Dominie Pike
+wished mightily that he might have had two pies instead of one, so we
+always make up a double allowance. And now don’t wait for ceremony.”
+She was beginning to cut the pie with sure and deft wielding of her
+knife. “This time we’ll begin with the boy who thought of having pie
+for breakfast--yes, serve him first, Hannah.”
+
+Hungrily Poke snatched up a fork. There was something frankly famished
+in the admiring gaze he fixed upon the contents of the plate put before
+him.
+
+“Don’t wait!” Mrs. Grant counselled. “We’ll dispense with ceremony.”
+
+Poke needed no urging. He was desperately hungry; and, moreover, as
+has been said, he was a mighty trencherman. Up rose the fork, well
+freighted. An instant’s silence; then one word:
+
+“Ah-h!”
+
+If ever vast satisfaction were packed into a syllable, it was in that
+brief exclamation. Their hostess beamed; the boys burst into laughter.
+Sam, before whom Hannah had placed the second plate, caught Mrs.
+Grant’s eye.
+
+“I--I think I used to be prejudiced about--about----” he hesitated.
+“Somehow, though, I think you understand what I mean, ma’am. Maybe I
+didn’t appreciate--er--er--you know!”
+
+“I know! But you’re not to bother your head about that for a second. I
+was young once myself, thank Heaven!”
+
+“Well, I appreciate it now,” said Sam simply. “And I’m mighty glad
+I’ve learned how to appreciate it. This whole business--from first to
+last, with the flood thrown in--I--I guess I know more than I did,” he
+concluded with an effort.
+
+“I’m surely glad all of you know about Sugar Valley and its legends,”
+Mrs. Grant put in quickly, to cover his confusion. “I’ve told you one
+story about Dominie Pike. There are a lot of other stories.”
+
+Tom Orkney spoke from his end of the table.
+
+“I wonder if some of them are not here, Mrs. Grant,” he said, and
+took from his pocket a little book, stained, frayed, dog-eared at
+the corners, lacking covers, and with some of the outer pages sadly
+mutilated.
+
+From hand to hand it was passed to Mrs. Grant. The boys could see that
+the pages were filled with writing, small, closely lined, in ink which
+had faded with the passage of years.
+
+Mrs. Grant glanced curiously at the little book. She turned the pages,
+her interest evidently increasing as she proceeded.
+
+“Why--why, if this isn’t the real thing--the original diary of Dominie
+Pike--but how did you come by it?”
+
+“I found it in an old house we stayed in till the flood drove us out.”
+
+The lady nodded. “Yes, that would fit--it must have been the old
+Dominie’s house. But this book, now! You know, I told you I never saw
+the original, and never knew anybody who had seen it, but this--well,
+it certainly fits the description of the diary that’s been handed
+down. And the penmanship is just like the Dominie’s--there are some
+other specimens in old documents that have been preserved--bills,
+receipts, agreements, and so on. And as nearly as I can make out what
+it says--yes, it reads as if it was genuine. And I think it’s one of
+the first of the set the Dominie is known to have kept. But you found
+it, you say?”
+
+“Yes,” said Tom. “It was in a niche, a sort of hiding-place in the
+chimney above the fireplace in an up-stairs room.”
+
+“I know the room you mean. They say it was the Dominie’s study. He may
+have left the book there, or maybe his son or grandson did. But how in
+the world did you happen to hunt it out?”
+
+Orkney hesitated. He was not a fellow of ready speech, and he was
+embarrassed by the attention he was attracting.
+
+“I--well, I can’t explain exactly except that I had a--a hunch, you
+might call it--that, somehow, the Dominie Pike story might be more than
+a plain story. And when I heard about the lost diary--well, it happened
+I remembered it would be awfully good medicine for this crowd if we
+could find it. There’s a prize----”
+
+“Oh!” said Poke sharply and suddenly.
+
+“There’s a prize we’d like to win for--for a special reason----”
+
+“Bully old Orkney!” cried Step.
+
+Orkney raised a hand. “Better let me finish the best way I can--I’m not
+much of a chap at such things. Well, then, I couldn’t get the Dominie’s
+diary out of my head. So when we had nothing else to do in the old
+house, I kept nosing around. In that up-stairs room something made me
+suspect there might be a hiding-place in the masonry of the chimney.
+My grandfather’s house had a sort of safety-deposit box built into its
+chimney, and I got a hint from that. Of course, it was too dark to see
+much, but by feeling along and then digging with my knife--well, to
+make the story short, I found that book just as we had to beat it--go
+away, I mean. So I tucked the book where it would be safe, and when we
+were on shore, and there was a chance, I looked it over. And--and you
+think it’s the real thing, don’t you?” he added anxiously.
+
+“Certainly!” cried Mrs. Grant. “I haven’t a doubt that it is.”
+
+“And you won’t mind our taking it for a while?”
+
+“Mind? Bless me, child, it’s yours for the finding, and welcome!”
+
+But Orkney shook his head. “No; it belongs to you,” he said. “You’ll
+know what to do with it permanently. We shouldn’t. A week or two will
+be quite enough for our purposes.”
+
+Mrs. Grant looked perplexed. “Well, maybe you understand what you’re
+about. I don’t, but that’s neither here nor there. And if it suits you,
+surely it suits me, too.”
+
+“Thank you!” said Orkney very gravely.
+
+“Yes, thank you!” echoed the Safety First Club with a fervent
+heartiness Mrs. Grant perceived but quite failed to comprehend.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI POKE OUT OF BONDAGE
+
+
+The result of the historical essay competition was a foregone
+conclusion. Under the conditions, by which facts counted for more than
+form of expression, the production of the Safety First Club, entered
+in Poke’s name, took the hundred dollar prize, with never a doubt in
+the minds of the judges. Tattered and torn as was the diary of Dominie
+Pike, it yet threw so much light upon debated questions of early town
+history, and added so much information to the local historians’ store
+of knowledge, that the award was made with very little delay.
+
+Poke, it must be said, rebelled at the last, but the club promptly
+overruled his objections. Step argued long and vigorously with his chum.
+
+“You’ve got to have money, and here is money. Don’t be an idiot! What
+do you want to do? Turn us down, and be sued or--or something? Want
+your folks to know all about the mess, eh? Ugh! Thought you didn’t.
+And here you’ve been growling about luck being against you, and when
+it’s for you, you’re all for jumping the fence to get away from it.
+Say, you make me tired!”
+
+This was Step’s conclusion, and along with the rest of his argument
+served to shake Poke somewhat, and to send him to Sam, as a sort of
+court of appeal. But Sam quite agreed with Step.
+
+“Look here, Poke,” he said. “I know how you feel; how you hate to take
+all of what you think ought to be divided among the gang. But it’s the
+thing for you to do. That dinner of yours was really a club affair. You
+gave it to even up a club account with Varley. So the whole club is
+concerned in getting you out of a scrape that resulted from the dinner.
+Every one of us feels that way about it--Orkney most of all. So trot
+along, and pay the bill, and be happy.”
+
+Poke drew a long face. “Happy? With just a shift of load? I’ll be out
+of debt to the hotel man, and under debt to every one of you fellows.”
+
+Sam laughed, and it wasn’t a feigned laugh, either. “Poke, you miss
+the combination! There isn’t one of us who hasn’t had his full share of
+help, one way or another, out of all we went through.”
+
+“Umph! What did you get, for instance?” Poke demanded.
+
+“I got a lot.”
+
+“A mince pie! You’re fooling me--or trying to.”
+
+“Yes, I got a mince pie,” said Sam calmly. “And I’ll tell you this: I
+wouldn’t miss the pointers I’ve picked up in getting it. I know more
+about people, and er--er--about motives. And I can see what a fool I
+made of myself for a while. And I see, too, how what seem like little
+things at the start can lead to big things. Why, it’s like rolling a
+snowball that gets bigger and bigger as you push it along. It began
+with Varley breaking our rules, and walking into the club. Then came
+the runaway, with Varley mixed up in it, and Mrs. Grant’s coming after
+us, and my row with the club, and, finally, after Varley had treated us
+and you’d treated him in return and got in trouble doing it--why, it
+all had to happen to lead us to Sugar Valley. And you wouldn’t have
+missed your experience there, would you?”
+
+“Course I wouldn’t!” cried Poke indignantly.
+
+“Well, then! What more would you have? Tom Orkney’s as pleased as Punch
+to have found that old book, but it pleases him more to be able to give
+you a lift. No, Poke, there’s nothing for you to do but make a fair
+wind of it, and sail down to the Rainbow Mountain House, and settle up.”
+
+“You honestly mean that?”
+
+“Every word of it!” said Sam gravely.
+
+So Poke, with the prize money supplemented by his own savings and the
+contributions of the club, drove out to the hotel, and paid his bill
+for breakage, and received a formal receipt, and drove back, a deal
+relieved in spirit, and full of projects to make money enough to repay
+his friends.
+
+Paul Varley had not been invited to join in the contribution. He had,
+naturally enough, gained a pretty accurate idea of the story and Poke’s
+plight, but when he hinted at a wish to bear his share in the relief
+fund, Sam rather tactfully discouraged him. Paul understood: it was a
+club affair, and he was not of the club, though he was on the best of
+terms with its members. He had proof of their regard for him in a very
+friendly demonstration in his honor.
+
+Rather unexpectedly, Paul was called back to the city. It was a summons
+by telegraph, and he had to obey it at once. He was surprised and
+gratified, therefore, when he reached the railroad station to find the
+Safety First Club gathered in full force on the platform.
+
+Boys, on such occasions, do not make smooth and felicitous farewell
+speeches.
+
+“Quitting us, eh? Sorry!” “Say, old sport, you’ll be running up to see
+us some time, of course.” “Paul, we’re going to miss you--you’re all
+right.” “What you got on for this summer? Don’t forget old Plainfield.”
+
+That was the sort of thing they told him, and Paul made reply in kind.
+But he had a moment apart with Sam, when he spoke more freely.
+
+“Parker, I’m older than your crowd, but, somehow, I’ve got a lot of
+good out of them. I’ve tried to keep up my end----”
+
+“But you have kept it up,” Sam cut in. “Why, you’ve treated the lot of
+us over and over again, and----”
+
+Varley interrupted him in turn. “I don’t mean that way,” he said
+hastily. “I mean in doing things, in taking the luck that came, in
+standing punishment with the crowd. I was what you might call soft, out
+of condition, at the start; and a lot of your game was new to me--the
+roughing it--the tramps over the snow--the flood--all that sort of
+thing. I didn’t want to show a yellow streak----”
+
+“Yellow streak nothing! A chap that’d take the chance you took when you
+jumped for that boat is true blue all the way through!”
+
+Varley cast a swift glance at the rest of the club; he saw that they
+were out of ear-shot, yet he lowered his voice:
+
+“Parker, you heard me squeal when that crash came--when the big barge
+hit the old house? Of course you heard me! Now, honestly, that was just
+nerves, but I could have bitten out my tongue a minute after I’d yelled
+for help. But it wouldn’t have done any good. You’d heard me; the crowd
+had heard me. So I made up my mind that if the opportunity came to
+make good for that break, I’d seize it. So when you and I grabbed for
+the boat and missed it--why--why--well, we just had to stop that boat
+from drifting away. So I went after it. That’s the story in a nutshell.”
+
+Sam, the undemonstrative, gripped Paul’s hand.
+
+“It was the pluckiest and quickest witted job I ever saw,” he declared.
+“And that’s what every one of the fellows thinks, too.”
+
+Had Varley had doubts of this, they must have been removed, as leaning
+from a car window, he waved farewell to the Safety First Club. For, of
+a sudden, the Shark, once his bitterest critic, stepped forward, pulled
+off his hat, and led in a cheer that gained in hearty volume from
+beginning to end.
+
+“What’s the matter with Paul Varley? He’s all right!” chanted the Shark.
+
+“Hurrah for Varley! Rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, rah,
+Varley!” chorused the club with a will.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Stories in this Series are:
+
+  THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB
+  THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB AND THE FLOOD
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Transcriber’s Notes:
+
+Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
+mentioned.
+
+Punctuation has been made consistent.
+
+Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
+the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors have
+been corrected.
+
+The following change was made:
+
+p. 153: myself changed to himself (commit himself on)
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB AND THE
+FLOOD ***
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+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Safety First Club and the Flood, by W. T. Nichols</div>
+
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+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
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+</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Safety First Club and the Flood</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: W. T. Nichols</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: F. A. Anderson</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 18, 2021 [eBook #64566]</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Demian Katz, Craig Kirkwood, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (Images courtesy of the Digital Library@Villanova University (http://digital.library.villanova.edu/))</div>
+
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB AND THE FLOOD ***</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="398" height="650" alt="[Illustration]" />
+</div>
+
+<div style="padding-top:2em">
+<div id="Ref_Frontispiece" class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i002.jpg" alt="" />
+<div class="caption"><p class="center"><a href="#BRef_Frontispiece">HIS NEW COMRADE WAS RACING ACROSS THE FIELDS</a></p></div>
+</div></div>
+
+<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h1 class="nobreak"><span class="xlargefont">THE</span><br />
+Safety First Club<br />
+<em>and</em> the Flood</h1>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center xlargefont"><span class="largefont">BY</span><br />
+W. T. NICHOLS</p>
+
+<p class="center p2"><em>Author of</em> “<span class="smcap">The Safety First Club</span>”</p>
+
+<p class="center p2">Illustrated by<br />
+<span class="smcap">F. A. Anderson</span></p>
+
+<p class="center p2 xlargefont"><span style="word-spacing:0.5em">THE PENN PUBLISHING</span><br />
+COMPANY PHILADELPHIA<br />
+1917</p>
+
+
+<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="largefont center">COPYRIGHT<br />
+1917 BY<br />
+THE PENN<br />
+PUBLISHING<br />
+COMPANY</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i004.jpg" alt="Publisher logo." />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center p2">The Safety First Club and the Flood.</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[3]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak">Introduction</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The one school which never needs a truant
+officer is the School of Experience. Whether
+we like it or not, we have to go to this school,
+all of us; but whether we shall profit by its
+lessons or waste the instruction is wholly a
+matter of our own choice. In this story Sam
+Parker and his friends, some of whose experiences
+have been earlier set forth in the first
+volume of this series, “The Safety First Club,”
+take a new course, so to speak, with resultant
+profit to themselves. “The Safety First Club
+and the Flood” finds this group of boys, and
+especially its leader, Sam, worried, beset and
+tried by problems new to them, perplexing,
+baffling; not very grave problems, at first
+glance, but serious enough in the eyes of the
+boys and not unimportant in their consequences&mdash;a
+phase of life, in short, which has
+very direct concern to young or old.</p>
+
+<p>Sam learns his lesson; his mates learn
+theirs. Incidentally, they undergo trials of<span class="pagenum">[4]</span>
+the flesh and of the spirit, and are the better
+for both. They meet adventure which, it is
+hoped, will be found to the taste of the friends
+the chums have made and may make through
+this volume and those which are to follow it.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[5]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak">Contents</h2>
+</div>
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">I.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Club Confers</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">II.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Varley Gets Acquainted</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">III.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Uncomfortable Glory</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">IV.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Sam’s Counsellor</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">60</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">V.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Snow-Shoes</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">73</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">VI.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">A Little Lunch</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">92</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">VII.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Shark Lectures</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">105</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">VIII.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Poke’s Mystery</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">117</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">IX.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Sam Gets a Reminder</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">133</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">X.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Blow Descends</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">148</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XI.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Great Mince Pie of Sugar Valley</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">163</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XII.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Exploring the Valley</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">185</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XIII.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Shark Demonstrates</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">202</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XIV.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Hunt</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">220</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XV.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The House of Refuge</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">237</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XVI.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Blind Trails</span></td>
+<td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">256</a><span class="pagenum">[6]</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XVII.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Rising Flood</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">272</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XVIII.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Through the Long Night</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">288</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XIX.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">What Befell Poke and Step</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">309</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XX.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">The Prize Snatched from the Flood</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">326</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tocchapter">XXI.</td><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Poke Out of Bondage</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">346</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[7]</span></p>
+<h2 class="nobreak">Illustrations</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<div class="center">
+<table class="toc" border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">
+<tr><td class="toctitle"></td><td class="tocpage"><span class="smallfont">PAGE</span></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">His New Comrade was Racing Across the Fields</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Ref_Frontispiece"><em>Frontispiece</em></a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="toctitle">“<span class="smcap">Grin and Bear It</span>”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Ref_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="toctitle">“<span class="smcap">You Can’t Raise the Money</span>”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Ref_160">160</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="toctitle"><span class="smcap">Another of His Precious Matches</span></td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Ref_248">248</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td class="toctitle">“<span class="smcap">We’ll Have to Drift Ashore Somewhere</span>”</td><td class="tocpage"><a href="#Ref_320">320</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[9]</span></p>
+
+<p class="center xxlargefont nobreak" style="margin-bottom:1em" id="CHAPTER_I">The Safety First Club<br />
+and the Flood</p>
+
+
+
+<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE CLUB CONFERS</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It was not a cheerful afternoon. Overhead
+were heavy, gray clouds, and underfoot was
+snow, long fallen, crusted by alternate thawing
+and freezing, dingy with the queer winter
+dust, which comes from nobody knows exactly
+where. In the beaten track of the roadways
+was an icy surface, made still more slippery
+by a thin coating, at once grimy and greasy,
+offering easy traction for the sledges, piled
+high with wood, which now and then came
+crunching along the streets. But it was full
+of peril to the motor cars, a few of which were
+abroad, skidding wildly at corners in spite
+of chained tires and careful driving. Out in<span class="pagenum">[10]</span>
+the fields the snow was perhaps a foot deep.
+Where paths had been shoveled the long
+mounds beside the walks rose almost to the
+waist of a man of average height. Altogether,
+it was a typical February scene in Plainville,
+a town well to the north, accustomed to hard
+winters and making the best of one of them,
+scarcely enjoying the experience but accepting
+it as inevitable.</p>
+
+<p>Sam Parker, muffled to the chin, mittened
+and rubber-shod, appeared to be imitating
+the example set by the town. He trudged
+along, whistling bravely if not blithely; and
+quickened tune and pace a trifle when he
+came in sight of a little building in the lee of
+a big house. Turning in at the gate, he
+hurried up the path to the smaller building;
+rapped thrice upon the door&mdash;there was hint
+in the performance of hasty observance of a
+customary rite; and, without awaiting a response,
+opened the door and strode in.</p>
+
+<p>It was a curious room he entered, low-ceiled,
+rough of wall and floor, furnished with the
+most miscellaneous collection imaginable of
+discarded chairs, tables and lounges from half
+a dozen homes. There were rugs which<span class="pagenum">[11]</span>
+showed signs of long and hard wear; there
+were old pictures in frames still bearing the
+dust they had gathered in years of retirement
+in garrets and storerooms. Other pictures,
+unframed and evidently cut from newspapers
+and magazines, were tacked here and there on
+the walls. Nevertheless, in spite of the confusion
+and disorder the place had a certain
+attractiveness and an air of easy-going comfort,
+with a suggestion that here one might
+do as one pleased. A visitor, skilled in such
+matters, might have more than suspected that
+once upon a time this had been a stable, but
+now anybody who could read must quickly
+grasp its present uses; for boldly chalked on
+an old blackboard was inscribed in capital
+letters</p>
+
+<p class="center">“<span class="smcap">The Safety First Club.</span>”
+</p>
+
+<p>Sam pulled off his cap and overcoat, and
+tossed them into a corner. His overshoes
+followed them. Then, being relieved of his
+out-of-door toggery, he crossed to the stove,
+and stood beside it, rubbing his hands in
+the grateful warmth. A plump youth moved
+aside to give him a place by the fire; and a<span class="pagenum">[12]</span>
+boy, tall and thin and quaintly sharp-angled
+of knee and elbow, hailed him from the depths
+of a dilapidated steamer-chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh, Sam! Know anything?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing new, Step,” Sam answered.</p>
+
+<p>The boy in the low chair grunted dismally.
+“Ugh! Confound it, there never is&mdash;this
+time of year, anyway!”</p>
+
+<p>Sam did not attempt to debate the point.
+For a moment he regarded Step thoughtfully&mdash;“Step,”
+it may be explained, was a contraction
+of “Stepladder,” a nickname bestowed by
+his mates upon Clarence Jones because of a
+degree of resemblance in his physical make-up
+to that useful article of household equipment.
+Then Sam’s glance went to the plump boy,
+Arthur Green in official records, but “Poke”
+to those honored with his intimate acquaintance.
+One could poke a finger almost anywhere
+into the well-rounded Arthur; hence
+the sobriquet.</p>
+
+<p>“Poke” Green appeared to be meditating.
+His lips were pursed, and there was a line in
+his forehead. He loved his bit of philosophy,
+did Poke; but it took time for him to put his
+meditations into words.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[13]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sam’s gaze traveled to a group about a table,
+on which were scattered magazines and a
+number of well-thumbed books. Two of the
+boys nodded. They were Herman Boyd
+and Harry Walker, more often called the
+“Trojan”; and they were good fellows and
+tried and true members of the Safety First
+Club. So, for that matter, was a bespectacled
+youngster, who from his place at the Trojan’s
+elbow was regarding Sam with a peculiar air
+of solemnity. Sam, meeting his eye, gave
+him greeting.</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo, Shark! What are you trying to
+figure out now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” said the other curtly.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you’re wasting time, you old wizard!”
+quoth Sam.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark made no reply. Doubtless, it
+seemed to him that none was needed. So he
+merely continued to peer through his spectacles
+at the newcomer, with a characteristic
+intentness which was all his own.</p>
+
+<p>Willy Reynolds, indeed, was often referred
+to as an “odd stick.” He had a mind of
+marked mathematical bent, and had proved
+himself so proficient in algebra, geometry and<span class="pagenum">[14]</span>
+trigonometry as to puzzle and amaze his comrades,
+toiling along paths of learning which
+appeared to offer him only entertainment. So
+they dubbed him the “Shark,” because he
+always seemed hungry for mathematics.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened, and in came a thick-set,
+sturdily built chap.</p>
+
+<p>“Hi there, Orkney! Glad to see you!”
+Sam sang out. It might have been noted,
+too, that the others gave the latest arrival a
+welcome, each in his own way, even the
+Shark thawing temporarily. One acquainted
+with boys and their ways would have understood
+that there was some reason why
+they wished Orkney to feel himself among
+friends.</p>
+
+<p>The thick-set lad answered each in turn, his
+face lighting as he spoke. It was clear that
+he appreciated his reception, as well he might.
+Time had been&mdash;and not very long before&mdash;when
+Tom Orkney and the Safety First Club
+had been at swords’ points, and when each had
+woefully misjudged the other. A chapter of
+accidents had served first to increase the bitterness
+on both sides, and then to remove it by
+revealing how thoroughly it was due to mistakes<span class="pagenum">[15]</span>
+and misunderstandings. And in the
+end, helped on by sharing common adventures
+and dangers, had come reconciliation and
+respect. In proof of its new and genuine
+regard the club had admitted Tom to its
+jealously guarded circle of membership.</p>
+
+<p>They were, it may be said, a good lot of
+boys; healthy youngsters in their teens&mdash;the
+Shark was the youngest and physically the
+weakest; well intentioned but not wise beyond
+their years; fond of fun and activity and no
+prophets of possible consequences of their
+escapades. But, as the title of their club
+indicated, they were learning their lesson in
+the school of experience. The wisdom of a
+policy of “Safety First” was impressed upon
+them, though as yet they were not too skilled
+in the application of the rule.</p>
+
+<p>While Tom Orkney was settling himself by
+the table, Step Jones again raised his voice in
+lamentation.</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you, fellows, this is the meanest,
+logiest, slowest, stupidest time of all the year.
+There’s nothing to do. The snow spoils the
+skating, and more than half the time the
+snow-shoeing and skiing are no good. Sleighing’s<span class="pagenum">[16]</span>
+a bore, and coasting’s no use except
+for kids. And where does that leave you?
+Ugh!”</p>
+
+<p>Nobody answered Step’s question. There
+was a long silence, broken by that youth
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>“Worst winter I ever saw&mdash;yah!”</p>
+
+<p>Sam Parker shook his head doubtfully.
+“Oh, I don’t know about that, Step. Seems
+to me this is a good deal like all the rest of
+’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“And if you want something to keep you
+busy, there’s always school,” put in the Trojan
+with a chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>“School? Oh, thunder!” snapped Step
+with scorn.</p>
+
+<p>Poke Green waved a hand, an oratorical
+hand; thereby signifying that he had reached
+a readiness to address the meeting.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, you fellows! You don’t know
+what you’re talking about, because you start
+in and say things first and think about ’em
+afterward. So you get ’em about half right
+and half wrong.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go it, old Solomon!” Herman Boyd encouraged.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[17]</span></p>
+
+<p>Poke needed no spur. “Here’s Step calling
+this the worst winter that ever was, which it
+isn’t. And here’s Sam trying to make out
+that it’s just like any other winter, which it
+isn’t, either. If this climate ever got as monotonous
+as all that, it’d go out of business.
+There have been better winters that I can remember,
+and there have been worse. The
+trouble with all of them is that there is too
+much of a muchness about them.”</p>
+
+<p>Then the Shark spoke crisply: “Applying
+that to school, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“I am,” said Poke solemnly. “This term’s
+the long pull&mdash;no holidays to break it&mdash;no
+Thanksgiving&mdash;not even Washington’s birthday.”</p>
+
+<p>“They have it in lots of places,” the Trojan
+put in.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we don’t&mdash;and I’m talking about us.
+So right through to the Easter recess we have
+to pound away, and it gets tiresome, I tell
+you. And what’s true of school is true of the
+weather. Winter’d be all right if it ended
+along in January. Everybody’d feel braced
+up and ready for spring. But does it happen
+that way? No, sir! Winter keeps on doing<span class="pagenum">[18]</span>
+business along into March or April&mdash;yes, or
+into May.”</p>
+
+<p>“Our furnace was going last June,” Herman
+Boyd contributed.</p>
+
+<p>Sam’s expression was thoughtful. “Well,
+Poke,” he said, “I follow your argument&mdash;if
+it is an argument. But what does it lead
+to?”</p>
+
+<p>“To my conclusion,” quoth Poke with all
+possible gravity.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?”</p>
+
+<p>Poke ran his glance over his club-mates; all
+were attentive.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?” he repeated. “Can’t you
+see for yourselves that it can be only one
+thing? The trouble with us is that we need
+variety!”</p>
+
+<p>“But you said the weather was varied,”
+objected Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“But it’s winter weather all the time, just
+as school’s school, no matter whether you’re
+reciting Greek or trigonometry. Then there’s
+another point. In summer people are coming
+and going, and making visits; in winter
+everybody’s shut up more or less. We don’t
+get enough human variety.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[19]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sam rubbed his chin. “Why&mdash;why, I
+don’t know but there’s something in your
+notion, after all,” he admitted.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a lot!” Poke insisted triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>It was not often that the Shark laughed;
+but he laughed now in a fashion which made
+his friends turn to him in surprise.</p>
+
+<p>“Ha, ha! You chaps seem to forget that
+we have with us in this town one Paul Varley.
+If he isn’t a queer variety of human, I’ll
+square the circle for you&mdash;and that’s something
+nobody has done yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Varley!”</p>
+
+<p>“What! That dude?”</p>
+
+<p>“What have we got to do with him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Say! Isn’t he the limit?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark listened calmly to these remarks
+of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I said he represented variety, and I
+stick to it,” quoth he drily.</p>
+
+<p>Sam turned to Poke. “Do you mean that
+we ought to take in Varley?” he demanded
+a bit hotly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a murmur of dissent. Membership
+in the Safety First Club was not lightly<span class="pagenum">[20]</span>
+granted, and Paul Varley was not high in
+favor.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t mean anything of the sort,” said
+the Shark. “But if anybody wants entertainment
+in this town this winter&mdash;why, there’s
+Varley to look at.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and listen to,” Herman Boyd chimed
+in.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! You talk as if you really knew
+him,” Step commented.</p>
+
+<p>“I do&mdash;after a fashion. But Orkney knows
+him better.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom Orkney shook his head. “Guess I’ll
+refer you to Sam; he knows him best of all.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Varley’s a&mdash;&mdash;” Sam began impatiently,
+but quickly checked himself. “I
+dare say he’s a very good fellow,” he added
+after a little pause.</p>
+
+<p>“Hang it, Sam, finish what you started to
+tell us!” cried Step.</p>
+
+<p>Sam hesitated. Among the lessons he had
+been learning was that Safety First might be
+as advisable in speech as in action. Besides,
+he wished to be fair. It might not happen
+that any of the club would have a great deal
+to do with Varley, but he was well aware that<span class="pagenum">[21]</span>
+a few careless words might prejudice all of
+them against the newcomer.</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, I’ve talked hardly half an
+hour with him altogether. He seemed to be
+good-natured.”</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t he ride his high horse for you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not much&mdash;very little,” said Sam. “Of
+course, he comes from a big city. And he’s
+been at big ‘prep’ schools. And he’s used to
+the rush, and crowds, and all that sort of
+thing. I don’t know, though, that he tried
+to rub it in&mdash;that we aren’t crowded here, I
+mean. And he did seem friendly&mdash;got to say
+that for him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Up here for his health, isn’t he?” queried
+Step. “Gay life knocked him out, didn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t put it that way. He said he
+was rather run down, and so his folks shipped
+him up here to visit the Bateses&mdash;Mrs. Bates
+is his aunt, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long is he going to stay?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe it’s settled.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! He’s rigged out as if he were on a
+polar expedition.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam’s lips twitched. “Well, he is outfitted
+pretty gorgeously.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[22]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I should say he was!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s nothing against him, though.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke wagged his head sagely. “No; fine
+feathers don’t make fine birds, or spoil ’em
+either. When you take time and think about
+it&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“You wait your turn, Poke,” Step objected.
+“Let Sam finish.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m through,” said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I guess we’re all through with Varley
+before we really begin with him,” quoth Step.
+“We’ve got our crowd. I don’t see how he
+can make much difference to us. We’re all
+of us right here now, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Herman Boyd, who had been looking out
+of the window, whistled sharply, sprang to
+his feet, peered through the pane, then retreated
+swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! Talk about angels or people!”
+he exclaimed. “Great Scott! but he must be
+coming here. I saw him turn in at the gate
+and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Who turned in?”</p>
+
+<p>“What are you driving at?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s coming?”</p>
+
+<p>They rained questions upon him; but Herman<span class="pagenum">[23]</span>
+had no need to answer. Indeed, before
+he could do so, a hand was laid on the knob,
+and with no preliminary knock the door was
+swung. And there in the opening stood Paul
+Varley, quite at his ease and with a complacent
+smile on his face.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[24]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">VARLEY GETS ACQUAINTED</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There were seconds in which amazement
+held the members of the Safety First Club
+speechless and almost motionless.</p>
+
+<p>This open invasion of the privacy of the
+club was something wholly outside their experience.
+A boy who didn’t belong might
+call there, of course, if he wished to see one
+of the members; but he would be expected to
+halt outside and hail the club with a shout,
+or, at the most, to knock at the door and
+pause outside. And he would be quite as
+anxious to observe this code as the members
+would be anxious that he should observe it.
+A fellow didn’t care to enter where he was not
+wanted, and if he had been wanted, he would
+have been elected to membership. That was
+the way the matter was reasoned out. The
+conclusion was accepted by everybody in interest.
+So for one of the town boys to walk
+up to the door, and throw it open, and look<span class="pagenum">[25]</span>
+in at the assembled coterie, and do these
+things calmly and unconcernedly&mdash;well, none
+of the town boys would have thus conducted
+himself. But there was Paul Varley doing
+these things quite as a matter of course, thus
+proving himself not of the town and at the
+same time bringing embarrassment to the club.</p>
+
+<p>Varley stepped into the room. “Hullo,
+everybody!” he said cheerily. “Thought I’d
+drop in for a minute&mdash;I’ve heard a lot about
+this joint of yours, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>There was no response; surprise still held
+the members of the club.</p>
+
+<p>Varley smiled genially. He was perhaps a
+year older than any of the Safety First boys,
+and a great deal more practised in some of the
+ways of the world. He ran his eye over the
+room, and spoke again:</p>
+
+<p>“Pretty nifty&mdash;what! Snug as a bug in a
+rug, aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Oddly enough, it was the usually reticent
+Shark who first found tongue.</p>
+
+<p>“We like it.” He threw an emphasis on
+the “we,” to which Varley might have taken
+exception, had he been disposed to be critical.
+But the caller was not looking for trouble.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[26]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I should think you would,” he said
+smoothly. “Fixed it up yourselves, didn’t
+you? Thought so. More fun to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>It did not seem to occur to the Shark that
+it was his business to make reply, and nobody
+else volunteered. Varley took off his cap.
+It was a handsome cap of fur. He unbuttoned
+his overcoat; it was fur-lined. In fact,
+from head to heels he was outfitted for very
+cold weather, as if his garments had been
+selected for wear in semi-Arctic regions.
+Plainly enough, somebody had told him
+wonderful tales of winter temperatures “up
+country.”</p>
+
+<p>The evidences that Varley intended to
+make a stay of some length stirred Sam to
+his duties as unofficial head of the club.
+Somehow, the rôle of spokesman seemed to
+fall to him, in times of emergency, by a sort
+of common consent.</p>
+
+<p>“Er&mdash;er&mdash;why, how do you do?” he
+stammered. “Won’t you take a seat?”</p>
+
+<p>Varley shook his head. He was still smiling
+in his friendly fashion.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, no; I’d rather look about a bit, if I
+might,” said he. “I’d heard so much, one<span class="pagenum">[27]</span>
+way or another, about this den of yours, that
+I made up my mind I’d make a call.
+Thought, too, I’d find you all in about this
+time of day. Say, you’ve got a cracking good
+hang-out! Said you fixed it yourselves, didn’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>Then up spoke the Shark, testily: “Nobody
+said that.”</p>
+
+<p>“But it’s the fact, all the same,” Sam
+hastened to remark. “Yes; what’s here we
+did, or made, or whatever you choose to
+call it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Smooth work, too,” said Varley quickly.
+“Garage once, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>Inasmuch as the club-house was the property
+of Step’s father, Step felt called upon to make
+reply.</p>
+
+<p>“No&mdash;stable.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley turned to the tall youth. “Whatever
+it began with being, it’s all right now.
+And it’s a bully good scheme you fellows
+have. Great place to loaf, this is!”</p>
+
+<p>Now this was said affably enough, and
+with no trace of the condescending note for
+which the boys were listening keenly. A
+chap&mdash;an older chap&mdash;from a big city might<span class="pagenum">[28]</span>
+be disposed to be patronizing; and the Safety
+First Club did not care to be patronized. But
+no fault was to be found with Varley’s
+manner. Sam felt moved to explain the plan
+the crowd had followed.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, we got together what we could,”
+said he. “Each one contributed. Somebody
+brought an old sofa, and somebody else a table
+his folks weren’t using any more, and so it
+went on. And if anybody had a picture he
+liked, he hung or tacked it up. That’s the
+way it went, and&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;that’s about the
+whole story.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley nodded, and crossed the room to
+examine an old engraving. From this he
+went to inspection of a very modern cartoon
+from a newspaper.</p>
+
+<p>“Liberty hall&mdash;I get the idea,” quoth he.
+“And I like it. Gives variety. By the way,
+it’s like the plan they have in some of the big
+clubs. Members contribute odds and ends&mdash;curios&mdash;they
+pick up. It’ll make quite a
+museum after a while.”</p>
+
+<p>“Or quite a junk shop!” interposed the
+Shark. He was staring hard at the visitor
+through his spectacles, and his expression was<span class="pagenum">[29]</span>
+dubious, if not hostile. The other boys moved
+uneasily. They had begun to recover from
+the surprise of the visit, and to understand
+that Varley felt himself on a purely friendly
+errand. Therefore there should be allowance
+for his ignorance of the local code, and avoidance
+of controversy. The Shark’s speech embarrassed
+them, but not Varley. He laughed,
+lightly and good-naturedly.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re on the mark, at that. Museums
+and junk shops are a lot alike; but that
+doesn’t prevent ’em from being interesting.
+Why, I went into a queer old shop one day,
+and there was an old machine, with all sorts
+of rings and pivots, and hung on ’em was a&mdash;a&mdash;well,
+it looked like an oblong sphere
+and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“What!” shouted the Shark.</p>
+
+<p>Varley glanced at him questioningly. “I
+beg your pardon?” he said with a touch of
+formality.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark drew a long breath. “An
+oblong sphere!” he repeated slowly. “Jee-whippiter!”</p>
+
+<p>Again it was Sam’s duty to explain.
+“Don’t let the Shark bother you. He means<span class="pagenum">[30]</span>
+well, but he’s a bug on mathematics&mdash;and
+cones, and circles, and cubes, and spheres, and&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;and
+all that sort of thing. But
+he’s harmless.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more Varley’s laugh saved the situation.
+“I understand. And he’s right, at that.
+What I meant was, that the thing was egg-shaped&mdash;almost,
+but not quite. And that
+little difference in shape, the inventor figured,
+was just what would make it a perpetual
+motion machine, that would keep going forever,
+once you started it. Of course, it didn’t
+work. But I say!”&mdash;he was looking straight
+at the Shark&mdash;“I say! If you’re up in the
+‘math’ I envy you. It’s my stumbling-block&mdash;gets
+me every time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph!” said the Shark non-committally.
+In his experience the world was strangely
+crowded with beings woefully deficient in the
+mathematical sense. He was learning to
+make allowances for their shortcomings. The
+visitor, by frank confession of incapacity, won
+a degree of toleration, if not of approval.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; it gets me every time,” Varley went
+on. “I’ve had half a notion to see if I
+couldn’t go into the senior class at your high<span class="pagenum">[31]</span>
+school, just to brush up on the mathematical
+review&mdash;maybe I shall yet. But first I want
+to get better acquainted with the town and
+the people. That’s why I dropped in on your
+crowd. And now that I’ve said ‘Howdy,’
+I’ll move along.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, don’t be in a hurry,” said Sam politely.</p>
+
+<p>For the first time the blackboard, with its
+boldly chalked inscription, caught Varley’s
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo! What’s that? Safety First Club?
+Say, that’s a funny name for a lot of boys to
+pick out!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it pleases us,” said Sam, a little
+curtly.</p>
+
+<p>Varley’s ready smile was in evidence. “So
+I supposed, or you wouldn’t have chosen it.
+But it’s an odd name, all the same.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam hesitated an instant. “It&mdash;well, maybe
+it is odd. But some things happened to impress
+us with the need of looking before we
+leaped. So we agreed on the name. Then
+other things happened to impress us some
+more, and we kept it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” said Varley; but then he repeated,
+“Safety First Club, Safety First?” as if he<span class="pagenum">[32]</span>
+were still puzzled. “Somehow, that seems to
+bar a lot of fun.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, we manage to get along.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where do you draw the line between
+what’s safe and what isn’t?”</p>
+
+<p>Again Sam hesitated. “Why&mdash;why, I guess
+there isn’t any general rule. You have to
+settle each case as it comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what’s the rule for settling it?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark came to Sam’s assistance. “Law
+of chances,” he said curtly.</p>
+
+<p>“Meaning&mdash;&mdash;?”</p>
+
+<p>“Can you get away with it? Can’t dodge
+all risks, can you? But when you have to
+take one, isn’t there a safer way than the first
+way you think of? Just stop and figure. It
+pays!”</p>
+
+<p>Varley shook his head. “That’s all right
+for mathematical sharps,” he said laughingly;
+“but I’m not in that class. The tree would
+fall on me, or I’d drown, or the bull would
+toss me over the fence, long before I could
+cipher out what the chances were.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pays, all the same, to try,” the Shark
+insisted.</p>
+
+<p>Varley glanced a little inquiringly at Sam.<span class="pagenum">[33]</span>
+As has been explained, he was older than the
+club’s members, and more versed in the ways
+of the world; and now he had an intuition
+that the boys, while satisfied with their club’s
+title, were not eager to discuss it with a comparative
+stranger. He looked at Sam, but
+Sam said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The visitor buttoned his overcoat. “Guess
+I’ll be running along,” he remarked. “Mighty
+glad to have had a look at your den.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re glad you like it,” said Sam, reminded
+of his manners.</p>
+
+<p>Varley moved toward the door. He was
+quite aware that nobody had asked him to
+call again, and for the first time since his
+arrival began to feel a trifle of embarrassment.</p>
+
+<p>“Fine place&mdash;bully!” he said. “I&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;I
+don’t suppose anybody is going my way?”</p>
+
+<p>Now, there was something in the other’s
+manner which brought a sudden change in
+the plans of Sam Parker. Maybe his instinct
+of hospitality stirred; he might at least escort
+this unbidden guest whom he had failed to
+welcome warmly.</p>
+
+<p>“Guess I’ll trot along, too.” He caught up
+his cap and overcoat, put them on, and<span class="pagenum">[34]</span>
+slipped into his overshoes. “Ready, when
+you are,” he added.</p>
+
+<p>Varley said, “Well, so long, you fellows!”
+and said it jauntily; but he was silent while
+he walked away from the club-house with Sam.
+The latter also seemed to be tongue-tied.
+Indeed, the pause threatened to become awkward
+for both of them, when Varley, with an
+effort, ended it.</p>
+
+<p>“Great winters you have up here!” he said
+jerkily. “Must be no end of sport, when you
+get the hang of things. Can’t say I’ve quite
+done that yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll get it quickly enough,” Sam assured
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Hope so,” said Varley. “I’d like&mdash;&mdash;”
+he broke off abruptly. “Hear that? What’s
+happening up the street?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam didn’t answer. Indeed, he had no
+need to do so. Like Varley, he had heard
+the sharp “honk, honk!” of an automobile
+horn rising above the jingle of sleigh-bells, and
+then a woman’s shriek of alarm, and the quick
+beat of hoofs on the icy roadway. A horse,
+drawing a light cutter, had taken fright at a
+passing motor car, had got out of control of<span class="pagenum">[35]</span>
+the woman who held the reins, and was making
+a frantic bolt. Turning, the boys had a
+glimpse of a wiry bay, neck outstretched, ears
+back, red nostrils distended; of a sleigh swaying
+wildly; of a woman tugging vainly at the
+reins.</p>
+
+<p>“Runaway!” gasped Varley. Then he did
+the instinctive thing, and the plucky thing.
+The horse was very near, and coming fast.
+Varley sprang into the street. Promptly as
+he acted, though, there was a second in which
+his eyes were on Sam; and in that instant he
+had a queer impression that his companion
+was about to do as he was doing. But Sam
+suddenly appeared to change his plan, for he
+wheeled, and ran down the street, approaching
+the track of the runaway, not directly but
+on a long diagonal.</p>
+
+<p>There flashed on Varley an ugly doubt of
+Sam’s courage. Then for a little he forgot
+everything but the galloping horse, and the
+part he meant to play in stopping the maddened
+animal. He leaped over the piled up
+snow lining the sidewalk, and gave a great
+bound for the horse’s head. He was not reckoning
+risk, or chances&mdash;or conditions, for that<span class="pagenum">[36]</span>
+matter. It had not occurred to him that just
+at this point the frozen road, with its thin,
+greasy coating was extraordinarily slippery
+and treacherous under foot. He hardly realized
+what was happening, when, as he was
+about to grasp the bridle, his feet shot from
+under him. The shoulder of the runaway
+struck him. Luckily, it was only a glancing
+blow, but it sent him reeling back, out of
+danger of contact with plunging hoofs or
+lunging sleigh. Down he went in a heap,
+sorely shaken and with the breath half driven
+from his body; and there he lay, recovering
+his wits and his wind, while he watched Sam,
+twenty yards away, score success where he had
+failed.</p>
+
+<p>Sam sprang much as Varley had sprung;
+but he caught the reins close to the bit, and
+was not shaken off. Not that he was able to
+check the runaway’s career at once&mdash;as a matter
+of fact, he was dragged a considerable distance.
+He forced the horse, though, out of
+the beaten track and into the deeper snow,
+and little by little he reduced the speed. The
+animal struggled hard, but Sam kept his hold.
+Two or three men came running up; and in a<span class="pagenum">[37]</span>
+moment more the horse was at a standstill,
+trembling like a leaf, but again under control;
+his driver had been assisted from the sleigh,
+and was thanking Sam so warmly for his
+timely help that the boy, blushing hotly, was
+glad to beat a retreat and return to Varley,
+who by this time had picked himself up, and
+was brushing the snow from his overcoat.</p>
+
+<p>“Great Scott! but that was a star job of
+yours!” was his greeting.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it was just luck,” Sam answered
+modestly.</p>
+
+<p>“Luck?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; luck to find better footing than you
+had.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley gave a queer little groan. “Thunder!
+I didn’t think about that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, right here’s one of the smoothest
+places you can find anywhere; you need
+spiked shoes to stand on it. Farther on,
+though, it is rougher&mdash;rough enough to give
+you half a show, anyway. I saw how it was
+and ran along a bit. If you’d thought to do
+that, you’d have been all right. You made
+just as good a try as I did.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley glanced at the other keenly. “Look<span class="pagenum">[38]</span>
+here! First off, you were starting straight out
+just as I did. Then you stopped, and changed
+your scheme. You had the real hunch. I
+was stood on my head, and you got away with
+things. And all the difference was, you took
+time to think.”</p>
+
+<p>“I tried to,” said Sam quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a clever plan. But I say!” Varley
+paused an instant, his expression half admiring,
+half uncertain. “Come now! You talk
+about belonging to a Safety First Club, yet
+you pile in in a case like this&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Sam interrupted him. “Our kind of Safety
+First doesn’t mean wrapping yourself up in
+cotton wool and stowing yourself away on a
+shelf. It doesn’t mean dodging all risks&mdash;you’ve
+got to take some. But it does mean
+finding the best way to take them, if they
+seem to be necessary, and cutting them out, if
+they’re not necessary. That’s all there is to it.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley finished his task of brushing the
+snow from his coat. He straightened himself,
+and looked at Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“Somehow or other, Parker, it strikes me
+there’s a lot to be said for that notion of
+yours,” he remarked with conviction.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[39]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">UNCOMFORTABLE GLORY</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Sam Parker was disposed to think little
+and say less of the incident of the runaway
+horse. He had come out of the affair with
+some credit and a slightly sprained wrist, but
+he made no mention of either at home or at
+the Safety First Club. At school a somewhat
+vague report was circulated that there had
+been a frightened horse and a very good
+“stop”; but none of the pupils happened to
+have been about at the time of Sam’s exploit,
+and the story went the rounds without bringing
+in his name. Sam was quite content with
+this; and as he did not see Paul Varley for
+several days, he regarded the episode as a
+closed chapter.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile he was working hard at his
+books. He stood well in his classes, though
+he headed none of them; and he had an incentive
+for study.</p>
+
+<p>Sam expected to spend the last year of his<span class="pagenum">[40]</span>
+preparation for college at St. Mark’s, a famous
+school for boys. He was to go there in the
+autumn, after completing the third year of his
+course at the town high school; and inasmuch
+as his father’s consent to this arrangement had
+not been easily won, he prized it all the more
+highly. It had been granted, indeed, only
+after a series of adventures had satisfied Mr.
+Parker that his son was possessed of certain
+valuable qualities of self-reliance and discretion.
+Sam, reasonably, was greatly pleased
+with the outcome, and his satisfaction was increased
+by the fact that both Step and Poke
+were to be sent to St. Mark’s with him, while
+it was by no means impossible that one or two
+others of the club might join the colony. He
+looked forward eagerly to his year at the big
+school, but with a sensible understanding that
+good scholarship would be much to his advantage.</p>
+
+<p>Sam lacked the mathematical talent of the
+Shark, just as he had no such peculiar knack
+as Step showed in Greek. The tall youth
+shone in translations from the tongue of
+Xenophon and Homer in a manner which
+was wholly inexplicable to his friends&mdash;as<span class="pagenum">[41]</span>
+they frequently remarked with much feeling.
+In Latin Step was a mediocre performer; his
+French left much to be desired, but when it
+came to Greek&mdash;“Why, he eats it alive!”
+was Poke’s admiring declaration. Sam, being
+without such special genius, found none of
+his studies very easy&mdash;and, no doubt, profited
+the more in mental drill because he had to
+work for what he gained. His class rank was
+good, if not distinguished; and he stood well
+with the school principal and the other instructors,
+who saw that he was an influential
+fellow among his mates, including many who
+were not of the charmed circle of the club.</p>
+
+<p>Trudging to school one morning&mdash;it was
+several days after the affair of the runaway&mdash;Sam
+fell in with Poke, who appeared to be
+in a curious mood. Ordinarily, Poke was a
+cheery soul, and good-natured, but this day
+gloom was upon him. He answered Sam’s
+hail with something very like a growl; and
+when they fell into step, he groaned unmistakably
+as response to the other’s remark that
+it “wasn’t such a bad morning.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam looked at him wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the row?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[42]</span></p>
+
+<p>Poke dug his hands deeper into his pockets,
+and sank his chin in his coat-collar.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, nothing!” He said it as dismally as
+if everything had gone wrong.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you feel well?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well enough&mdash;that isn’t it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what is, then?”</p>
+
+<p>Poke hesitated; he seemed to be struggling
+between eagerness and reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I&mdash;well, something’s going to happen.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” Sam demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“Just wish I knew!” cried Poke fervently.</p>
+
+<p>Sam took him by the shoulder, and shook
+him vigorously.</p>
+
+<p>“Wake up, Poke! You’re dreaming.”</p>
+
+<p>Oddly enough, Poke caught at the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a dream, all right, but it wasn’t a
+common dream. I tell you, it was a&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;it
+must have been a warning!”</p>
+
+<p>“What sort of warning?”</p>
+
+<p>Poke wagged his head heavily. “My!
+but I wish to-day was safely over!” he said
+ominously.</p>
+
+<p>Sam laughed. It was a skeptical laugh,
+but it had a trace of uneasiness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[43]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Go on! You’re joking!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke heaved a tremendous sigh. “Well, I
+guess you wouldn’t be talking about joking
+if you’d had that dream yourself!”</p>
+
+<p>“What was it about?”</p>
+
+<p>“Everything&mdash;all mixed up! Course I
+can’t remember it all&mdash;you never can. But
+we were in it&mdash;all the fellows in the club
+were. And the way it went&mdash;Geeminy! first
+thing I knew I was sitting up in bed and
+yelling like an Indian. And I couldn’t get
+to sleep again, and the thing has been hanging
+over me ever since. It won’t go away.
+That’s why I feel in my bones that something
+is going to happen, and why I wish
+this day were over. Why, Sam, that was
+the meanest dream, the scariest dream&mdash;the&mdash;the&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Poke broke off; for round a corner came
+the Shark and Step Jones. And, of a sudden,
+it had occurred to the seer of visions that the
+Shark was the last person of his acquaintance
+who was likely to show sympathy for such a
+tale. But the newcomers had caught part of
+his speech.</p>
+
+<p>“What you driving at, Poke?” Step inquired.<span class="pagenum">[44]</span>
+“Talking about dreams, weren’t you?
+Go ahead!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’s nothing of any importance,” said
+Poke hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Seemed to be important enough
+a minute ago,” Step remarked. “What was
+the yarn, Sam?”</p>
+
+<p>Poke preferred to do his own explaining, if
+explanation there had to be.</p>
+
+<p>“I was telling Sam a story&mdash;yes; a story
+about a dream I had last night. And&mdash;well,
+I was telling him, too, that it worried me. It
+wasn’t a common dream&mdash;not by a long shot!
+And&mdash;and if you’ve got to have the whole
+thing, it is worrying me a lot! There’s
+trouble brewing for somebody, a heap of
+trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>Step regarded Poke with wide-opened eyes
+and sagging jaw, but the Shark’s lip curled
+scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense!” he jeered.</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you, it was a warning!” Poke insisted.</p>
+
+<p>“Warning of what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, I don’t know; that’s just the
+trouble.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[45]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Shark was regarding the prophet of
+evil very steadily. “Poke,” said he, “what did
+you eat last night before you went to bed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Noth&mdash;that is, nothing to speak of.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s hear about it, all the same.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke wriggled, but the Shark’s eye held
+him. “Well, I was sort of hungry, so I went
+out to the pantry, and had a nibble.”</p>
+
+<p>“At what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, anything I came across. But it was
+just a bite.”</p>
+
+<p>“How many bites?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a few, I suppose. It was only a
+snack.”</p>
+
+<p>“Crackers?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cake?”</p>
+
+<p>Poke reddened. “’Twa’n’t cake&mdash;it was a
+piece of pie, if you’ve got to know. But I
+don’t see&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark gave a queer, barking laugh.
+“Ho, ho! Pie, eh? Mince pie, I’ll bet you!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke tried to assume an air of offended
+dignity. “Well, it was mince, if that’s any
+comfort to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ate a whole pie, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[46]</span></p>
+
+<p>“No, sir!” shouted Poke indignantly. “It
+had been cut.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark turned to the other boys. “Oh,
+come along!” said he. “Guess we’ve treed
+the ghost that sat on the foot-rail of Poke’s bed
+and made faces at him. We’ll be late at
+school if we don’t wake up.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam and Step moved on with the Shark,
+Poke following dejectedly.</p>
+
+<p>“All right&mdash;have it your own way!” he
+called after them. “You don’t have to believe
+anything’s going to happen, but you just
+wait and see! I tell you, this day is going to
+be a bad one for somebody!”</p>
+
+<p>It cannot be said that either Sam or Step
+attached much more importance than did the
+Shark to Poke’s forebodings; and the morning’s
+work proceeded in a manner to remove
+all traces of uneasiness. Things went well
+for all the members of the club. None of
+them was tardy. Lessons appeared to be well
+learned, and teachers were in good humor.
+Even Poke himself shone in recitation, though
+he droned through his translations in mournful
+fashion, and declined to be consoled by
+approving words from the instructors.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[47]</span></p>
+
+<p>At the opening of the Junior class’s English
+period the principal of the school entered the
+room, and after a whispered word or two with
+the teacher took the platform.</p>
+
+<p>“I have an announcement to make,” he
+said. “I have chosen this time and place
+because it deals with something more or less
+directly connected with the work of this class
+in English. And to go straight to the point,
+the announcement deals with a very desirable
+prize, to be awarded in a competition open to
+all of you, and in which I hope many of you
+will take part.”</p>
+
+<p>A rustle ran through the assembled class.
+Everybody was interested, with the exception
+of the despondent Poke, who merely slumped
+a little lower in his seat.</p>
+
+<p>The principal cleared his throat, and went
+on. A friend of the school, who was engaged
+in local historical research, was ready to pay
+one hundred dollars to the pupil who should
+produce the best essay on the settlement and
+early days of the town. Industry in the
+collection of facts would be given quite as
+much consideration as the style and finish of
+the essays.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[48]</span></p>
+
+<p>“In short,” the principal added, “the conditions
+will be such that all of you will find
+this a fair field of rivalry. It is not the
+intention to limit any contestant rigidly in
+the matter of space; though I must warn you
+that waste of words will count adversely.
+You can have room for all the facts you
+gather, but this means room for concise statement.
+The contest will close on the first of
+April, when the essays must be handed in;
+and the winner will be announced as soon
+thereafter as possible. A detailed statement
+of the conditions of the competition will be
+posted at once on the bulletin-board.”</p>
+
+<p>Then the principal walked out of the room,
+and the class broke discipline for a little to
+discuss this great news in eager whispers. A
+hundred-dollar prize for a composition! That
+was the way most of them put the matter.
+And a hundred dollars seemed to be most
+inviting. Besides, there was hardly a boy or
+girl there who didn’t feel convinced that in
+some old aunt or uncle, or, better yet, grandfather
+or grandmother, was possible source of
+just the information that would win the
+competition. And style and finish were not<span class="pagenum">[49]</span>
+to determine the result&mdash;there was a condition
+much to the general liking; this wasn’t to be a
+contest practically limited to the half dozen
+Juniors with a known knack for writing.
+Even the Shark wagged his head approvingly,
+though he had no notion of entering
+the lists, white paper used for composition instead
+of figuring being more or less wasted, to
+his way of thinking. Only Poke remained
+indifferent, and sunk in gloom.</p>
+
+<p>The teacher, presently, called the class to
+order, and the recitation proceeded. At its
+close came recess, and the Juniors, flocking
+into the corridors and out to the school yard,
+fell to discussing the contest in all its bearings.
+Sam and his chums happened to be standing
+near the foot of the stairs when the principal
+came down from his office on the second floor,
+accompanied by a youth at whom the boys
+stared in surprise. For the youth was Paul
+Varley.</p>
+
+<p>Paul stopped to speak to the boys, and the
+principal checked his pace, as if waiting for
+the visitor to have his little talk with the
+others.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe I’ll be with you fellows,” Varley<span class="pagenum">[50]</span>
+said. “Some things I want to brush up on.
+I’ve been going over the business with Mr.
+Curtis”&mdash;he glanced at the principal&mdash;“and
+he thinks he can fix it for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we’re Juniors, and you’ll be a Senior,”
+Sam remarked.</p>
+
+<p>“No; more of an unclassified special student.
+I’ve had a pretty ‘spotty’ preparation, you
+know; and it struck me it would be a good
+thing to look after some of the weak spots
+while I’m here. So I made up my mind to&mdash;&mdash; I
+beg your pardon, madam!”</p>
+
+<p>Varley, as it chanced, was the only one of
+the group who was facing the entrance. This
+fact accounted for his sudden change of tone.</p>
+
+<p>A woman had come into the hall. She was
+a comfortable, middle-aged, plump person,
+whose hat was a trifle awry, and whose
+manner indicated much earnestness.</p>
+
+<p>None of the others had seen her come in,
+and none suspected her presence till Varley
+spoke. Then everybody turned quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m looking for somebody,” said the
+woman briskly. “I guess he’s somewhere
+round this school. Only&mdash;only I ain’t quite
+as sure as I ought to be. And&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;”<span class="pagenum">[51]</span>
+she hesitated, peering at the faces before her.
+Compared with the light out-of-doors, the hall
+was somewhat dim. “No, I don’t know
+whether he’s here or not,” she concluded.</p>
+
+<p>“And his name&mdash;&mdash;?” It was Varley who
+put the question; for Sam and his friends appeared
+to be tongue-tied, while the principal
+chanced to be in the background.</p>
+
+<p>“Mercy me, but I don’t know! That’s the
+trouble&mdash;they didn’t seem to know, either, any
+of them&mdash;the men, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah!” said Varley courteously, but uncertainly.</p>
+
+<p>The principal stepped forward. “I’m
+afraid we don’t understand, madam,” said he.
+“If you’ll kindly explain&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The visitor laughed. “Dear me, but somehow
+I always do manage to get the cart before
+the horse! But the men, they said they
+thought&mdash;&mdash; Wait a minute, though!” She
+moved nearer Varley, and studied his face intently.
+“Wait a minute! I vow, but this
+one looks like the fellow. Yes; he’s the one....
+No, he isn’t, either. He’s the boy
+that tried, and went rolling head over heels.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley gave a sudden laugh. “I get it!<span class="pagenum">[52]</span>
+You’re talking about the runaway. And
+you’re right&mdash;I was the fellow who took the
+tumble.”</p>
+
+<p>“The runaway?” Two or three of the boys
+spoke in chorus, wonderingly. Sam Parker
+instinctively began to edge away. The movement
+caught the woman’s attention. A sharp
+glance at Sam, and her expression brightened.</p>
+
+<p>“Here he is, sure enough!” she cried.
+“He didn’t tumble, and he held on like grim
+death till the colt stopped, and the men came
+running up to help. And then he slipped off
+before I could get my breath or my manners
+back enough to say ‘Thank you!’ But I’m
+going to say it now, and say it out loud!”</p>
+
+<p>With that, she briskly pursued the retreating
+Sam, overhauled him, and cast an affectionate
+arm about his shoulders. Then, holding
+him prisoner, she addressed all within
+hearing.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know what you’ve heard or haven’t
+heard about this, and I don’t care. I’m going
+to give my testimony. This boy”&mdash;she gave
+Sam a vigorous hug&mdash;“this boy did a brave
+thing. He took the chance of breaking his
+neck, when my colt was frightened by one<span class="pagenum">[53]</span>
+of those pesky automobiles and made a
+bolt. This boy”&mdash;another hug&mdash;“stopped
+him, and saved me from being killed, or getting
+an awful spill. And I’ve come here to
+look him up, and thank him good and proper&mdash;so
+there!”</p>
+
+<p>Now, to tell the truth, Sam at the moment
+looked anything but a hero; for he was wriggling
+and struggling vainly, and blushing furiously
+and unhappily. So public and so demonstrative
+a display of gratitude overwhelmed
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I&mdash;oh, ’twasn’t anything,” he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you, it was a whole lot to me!” declared
+the woman. “And I’ve been racking
+my brains how to show how I feel about it.”
+Again her arm tightened, and for a panic-stricken
+second Sam thought she was about to
+kiss him then and there, and in the presence
+of the crowd. He made a frantic effort for
+freedom, and his captress, who may have had
+some notion of boyish diffidence, released him,
+her eyes twinkling.</p>
+
+<p>Sam would have given much for the privilege
+of instant flight; but luckily kept his<span class="pagenum">[54]</span>
+wits and held his ground. To run away
+would be merely to add fuel to the fire of ridicule
+to which he believed his mates would
+subject him. So he tarried, and miserably attempted
+to smile, thereby deceiving nobody,
+and least of all the visitor.</p>
+
+<p>With a degree of tact she turned to the
+principal.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re Mr. Curtis, aren’t you? I thought
+that was your name. Mine’s Grant&mdash;Mrs.
+John Grant. I live over in Sugar Valley. I
+guess that’ll do for introductions, though you
+might as well tell me this boy’s name, if you
+please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Samuel Parker,” said Mr. Curtis.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t forget it, or what its owner did for
+me. I’ve tried to thank him, but I ain’t sure
+that I’ve exactly tickled him in doing it.”
+She smiled whimsically, and Sam, in spite of
+himself, winced. “But what I hope he’ll understand,
+and all of you will understand, is
+that I’m his friend for life. I’d like to do
+something to show how I feel about it. And
+I will do something!” Suddenly she wheeled
+to face Sam. “Come now! All boys I ever
+heard of liked good things to eat. It may<span class="pagenum">[55]</span>
+strike you as not amounting to much, but I’ll
+send you one of my mince pies&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but you mustn’t!” Sam protested.
+“It&mdash;it’ll be too much trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant paid scant heed to the objection.
+“I guess you don’t know the kind of pie I
+mean. There’s pies and pies, young man.
+And you won’t forget the one I send you.”</p>
+
+<p>Poor Sam feared that this was likely to
+prove a very mild statement. Forget? Would
+that he could forget the whole affair, or better
+yet, that his chums might forget this most
+embarrassing episode! But while he grinned
+feebly, and strove to contrive a fitting speech,
+Mrs. Grant came to his rescue by bidding
+everybody a cheery farewell and taking herself
+off, apparently well pleased with the results
+of her visit to the school.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I feel like old Columbus when he
+sighted America&mdash;he’d come a long way to
+find something, and he’d found it. And ’tis
+quite a drive in from Sugar Valley, but ’twas
+worth the trouble. I’ve found out things.
+So it’s a good day’s work for me&mdash;and, Master
+Parker, I’ll try to make it a good day for you,
+too. You’ll hear from me again and&mdash;no;<span class="pagenum">[56]</span>
+you wait and see what’ll happen. So good-bye,
+everybody, good-bye!”</p>
+
+<p>Out of the door and down the steps she
+went, smiling broadly, while behind her
+silence reigned for seconds. All eyes were
+on Sam, as he was most miserably aware.
+Other pupils had come up in time to hear her
+closing remarks, and there was quite a little
+crowd in the corridor, including some of the
+girls.</p>
+
+<p>One of the latter ended the silence. She
+tittered nervously rather than mischievously.
+There was a ripple of laughter; then some of
+the boys set up a shout in the very presence
+of the principal.</p>
+
+<p>Poor Sam would have blessed his stars had
+a trap-door opened beneath his feet and permitted
+him to drop out of sight. But the
+stout floor remained intact. The principal
+raised a warning hand, and shook his head
+at some of those who were giving way to
+mirth; but Sam did not wait for order to be
+restored. He turned, and blindly forcing a
+way through the press, retreated as best he
+might, but in most unheroic fashion. He
+had not been afraid of a runaway horse, but<span class="pagenum">[57]</span>
+with all a boy’s diffidence he dreaded the
+sort of celebrity his exploit unexpectedly had
+brought him.</p>
+
+<p>On the outskirts of the group Poke tugged
+at the Shark’s sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>“There now! What did I tell you?” he
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark peered through his glasses at
+his friend. Poke was no longer gloomy. He
+was grinning with a queer effect of utter
+complacency.</p>
+
+<p>“One time or another you’ve told me a
+lot of idiotic things,” growled the Shark.
+“Which particular one do you mean now?”</p>
+
+<p>“That warning&mdash;warning of trouble for
+somebody.”</p>
+
+<p>“Rats!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke wagged his head. “Look here, Shark!
+I said it, and you heard me say it. I told
+you I was sure a heap of trouble was coming to
+somebody. Well, it came! Old Sam caught
+it. I wouldn’t have been in his shoes just
+now for&mdash;for&mdash;for I don’t know what. Neither
+would you. So the warning made good!”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark rubbed his chin with an unusual
+manner of doubt. “Why&mdash;why&mdash;well,<span class="pagenum">[58]</span>
+it was fierce for Sam. But I&mdash;I’d hate to
+admit&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Course you would!” Poke interrupted.
+“You’re prejudiced. You don’t believe in
+anything unless you can put it in figures.”</p>
+
+<p>The taunt swept away the Shark’s indecision.
+“Warning&mdash;nothing!” he snapped.
+“Too much mince pie, that’s all!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke’s grin was triumphant. “All right!
+Call it too much mince pie, if you want
+to. But wait till Sam gets that pie that’s
+promised him, and the crowd hears about it!
+Then I guess you’ll think I was right all
+through.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh!” grunted the Shark skeptically.</p>
+
+<p>Poke laughed aloud. “Ho, ho, ho! I
+don’t beat you often, Shark, but when I do,
+I beat you all to pieces. Talk about mince
+pie, if you want to. I’ll talk about it, too,
+and when we get through, we’ll see who hits
+nearer the truth. Just you wait and see,
+and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>But the Shark was moving away. For once,
+at least, he found it impossible to maintain
+argument against Poke, the unmathematical
+philosopher and seer of strange visions.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[59]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sam’s good deed had brought him most
+embarrassing reward. Of this the Shark was
+quite as convinced as Poke could be, or Sam
+himself.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[60]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">SAM’S COUNSELLOR</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Sam took the matter of Mrs. Grant’s gratitude
+and the promised pie much to heart.
+He was, as it happened, a sensitive fellow,
+and he was of the age at which dread of ridicule
+is perhaps keenest. So he readily imagined
+that the whole school was laughing at
+him and the picture he must have presented
+with Mrs. Grant’s stout arm about his shoulders;
+and made himself miserable by suspicion
+of amusement in every glance he caught and
+of personal application in every laugh he
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>He had been reasonably satisfied with the
+manner in which he had stopped the runaway,
+and might not have objected to a certain
+amount of publicity, provided it could
+have come in the right way. If some man,
+who had been a witness of the affair, should
+have met him on the street, and clapped him
+on the shoulder, and growled “Clever job<span class="pagenum">[61]</span>
+you did, youngster!” or “Good work, son!”&mdash;why,
+that would have been all right, and
+quite in accord with his idea of the proprieties.
+But to be hugged and patted, and
+promised a pie, with his club-mates and
+others looking on, to say nothing of the
+principal&mdash;truly, Sam felt that his was a
+hard and undeserved fate.</p>
+
+<p>His behavior was somewhat like that of
+most stricken creatures; that is, he sought
+solitude. He shunned the club. From
+school he went straight home, and there,
+curled up in a corner of the library, read or
+studied industriously. Even to his father
+and mother he said little, and to neither did
+he confide a syllable of his unhappy experience.
+This sort of thing went on for two or
+three days, with the natural result that by
+much brooding upon his troubles he magnified
+them out of all proportion, and made
+himself so genuinely miserable that, at last,
+he was driven in desperation to seek diversion.
+He tried to find it at the club, and
+again his luck was bad.</p>
+
+<p>Trojan Walker had the gift of mimicry,
+and Herman Boyd liked to devise little<span class="pagenum">[62]</span>
+dramatic scenes. Sam walked in upon the
+assembled club, just in time to behold the
+Trojan, with a shawl wrapped about him to
+increase his resemblance to Mrs. Grant, presenting
+a lump of dough on a toy pie-plate to
+Herman, to the extreme delectation of the
+spectators. Step and Poke were roaring with
+laughter, and even the solemn Shark was
+chuckling.</p>
+
+<p>“Heroic youth, accept this slight trifle as
+a testimonial of my deep and undying gratitude
+and affection,” the Trojan was reciting.
+“You risked your life to save me, and now
+you can risk it again. This is no common
+pie. It’s a&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There the Trojan hesitated, stammered,
+paused. He had caught sight of Sam, standing
+in the doorway; and something in the
+other’s face warned him that he was on dangerous
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>Oddly enough, it was the Shark who broke
+the silence, which for a moment held the
+group.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in and shut the door, Sam,” he said
+curtly. “You’re making a draught.”</p>
+
+<p>But Sam neither closed the door nor advanced<span class="pagenum">[63]</span>
+into the room. Instead, he held his
+position, glancing from one to another of his
+chums. Poke laughed nervously; Step fell
+to rubbing his jaw with a quaint air of perplexity.
+The Trojan and Herman instinctively
+fell back a pace, as if expecting attack.
+Sam’s face was white, but his eyes were blazing.</p>
+
+<p>There was another pause, which seemed
+very long to all the boys, watching the newcomer,
+and perceiving more or less clearly
+that he was having a hard fight to keep his
+self-control. Then, of a sudden, Sam turned
+on his heel, and strode out, slamming the
+door behind him, and leaving a party no
+longer in a mood for private theatricals.</p>
+
+<p>The Trojan cast his shawl into a corner;
+Herman dropped weakly into a chair. Poke,
+staring at the door beyond which Sam had
+vanished, spoke for all of them.</p>
+
+<p>“Gee&mdash;minee!” he quavered. “But who’d
+’a’ thought he’d take it as hard as all that?”</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Sam was hurrying along the
+street. When he came to his father’s place,
+he turned in at the big gate, but instead of
+going to the house marched to the barn.<span class="pagenum">[64]</span>
+There in a combined harness room and workshop
+he came upon Lon Gates, coachman,
+chauffeur, gardener and general factotum of
+the Parker household, and also often counsellor
+and sometimes consoler of its youngest
+member.</p>
+
+<p>A glance showed Lon that Sam was flying
+storm signals. Out of the corner of an eye
+he watched the boy, who had dropped upon
+a bench near the little stove. A full minute
+passed before either spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Well?” Lon drawled, finally.</p>
+
+<p>Sam made no reply, but stared industriously
+at his shoes.</p>
+
+<p>Lon went on with his work&mdash;he was repairing
+a harness. He fitted a new buckle in
+place of an old one; tested it; glanced again
+at his young friend.</p>
+
+<p>“I dunno, Sam, but you’d feel better if you
+got it out of your system,” he remarked leisurely.</p>
+
+<p>No response from the youth on the bench.</p>
+
+<p>Lon continued his task for a time. Then
+he began to whistle. Sam stirred uneasily.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter? Out o’ tune, am I?”
+Lon inquired.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[65]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Way out!” snapped the boy.</p>
+
+<p>Then Lon laughed. “Ha, ha! Must ’a’
+ketched it off you, son. What’s the trouble,
+anyhow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Noth&mdash;nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right&mdash;tell me about it.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam raised his head. “Oh, it’s nothing&mdash;nothing
+to talk about, that is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Lon meditatively, “it pays to
+experiment now and then. You never can
+tell ’bout some things. And there is sort of a
+relief, somehow, in usin’ the human voice&mdash;kinder
+safety-valve effect. And it looks to
+me as if you’d been bottlin’ up steam long
+enough.... T’other boys been rilin’
+you, did you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes&mdash;but I didn’t say so.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon waved a hand. “Well, now you’re
+started, go ahead. I’m listenin’.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam hesitated. “It&mdash;it’s a long story.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the odds? It’s a long time before
+we have to knock off for supper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I couldn’t tell you everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Couldn’t, eh? That club o’ yourn in it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hang the club!” cried Sam hotly. “I’ll
+never go there again!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[66]</span></p>
+
+<p>Lon shook his head. “All right, maybe,
+only&mdash;only what do you fellers call yourselves?
+Beats all how I forget names!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the Safety First Club.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, so it is! And ‘Safety First’&mdash;that’s
+your motto, ain’t it? Good ’un, at that! It’ll
+keep you out of lots of mix-ups by makin’ you
+stop to think twice before you do things or say
+things you’ll be sorry for.”</p>
+
+<p>The red crept into Sam’s face. “Oh, well,
+Lon,” he said, “maybe I’ll go there again some
+time. But I wouldn’t now&mdash;you couldn’t hire
+me to. The way that crowd treated me&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on! All the crowd?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam reflected briefly. “Orkney wasn’t
+there,” he admitted. “But he’d have been
+as bad as the rest.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be too sure of that,” Lon advised.
+“That Orkney boy thinks a heap of you, Sam&mdash;all
+the more, likely’s not, ’cause you’re
+kinder an acquired taste with him. Mind
+how you two started to scrap, and how you
+misjudged each other, and how he ran away,
+and how you was mighty glad to have a hand
+in bringin’ him back? And&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Sam stopped him. “Lon, that’s all true.<span class="pagenum">[67]</span>
+But that’s another story. This one’s about
+me, and I&mdash;well, I’m the goat. And for that
+crowd to keep bringing up to me how that
+woman grabbed me, and told me she’d give
+me a mince pie&mdash;but say! I didn’t mean to
+tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know you didn’t,” said Lon calmly.
+“But now you might as well go ahead, and
+fill in the blanks in the yarn.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam drew a long breath. It would be a relief
+to have a confidant, and he trusted Lon’s
+discretion.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll tell you&mdash;tell you the whole
+thing,” he said, and plunged into the narrative,
+beginning with his dash for the head of
+Mrs. Grant’s runaway horse, and continuing
+through the scene at the school and the interrupted
+performance at the Safety First Club.</p>
+
+<p>Lon listened with admirable gravity. He
+understood perfectly Sam’s frame of mind.</p>
+
+<p>“Jesso, jesso!” he remarked sagely, when
+the tale was told. “Riled you all up, Sam,
+didn’t it? But I dunno’s there’s anything real
+fatal about it. The Grants are mighty nice
+folks&mdash;I know ’em. Fine place they’ve got
+over to Sugar Valley, too. And Mis’ Grant&mdash;she<span class="pagenum">[68]</span>
+meant all right, only she didn’t realize,
+mebbe, that a boy’s more or less like a rabbit
+when it comes to public pettin’, and behaves
+accordin’. So, if you’d cut and run&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t,” Sam explained hotly.</p>
+
+<p>“Good thing you couldn’t. Same way
+when Mis’ Grant makes good with that mince
+pie&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There Sam’s wrath exploded. He raged for
+a moment or two, Lon listening patiently.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’ll be some mince pie,” he said at
+last, when the boy had paused for lack of
+breath. “If I was you, I wouldn’t be declinin’
+it ahead o’ time and sight unseen.
+You can never tell, you know, how the thing
+may strike you when it happens. Maybe
+you’ll be hungry, and maybe you’ll feel like
+treatin’ that club of yours&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“No&mdash;no, siree! I’m through with ’em!”
+Sam managed to gasp.</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Not flocking with ’em much,
+eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet not! Not after the way they
+ragged me!”</p>
+
+<p>Lon meditated briefly. “Sam,” he said,
+“you’re an amazin’ human critter. Fust and<span class="pagenum">[69]</span>
+last, you have got a power o’ human ways
+about you. And I reckon most every human
+with any spunk one time or another makes
+up his mind the whole world’s against him,
+and starts in to fight it. So he tries to kick
+the world ’round for a while, and likely’s not
+keeps it up until he notices that he’s stubbed
+his toe and the world ain’t takin’ any interest
+to speak of.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh!”</p>
+
+<p>Lon chuckled softly. “Te he! Say!
+Wonder if I ever told you about old Brodman.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a little pause. Then Sam said,
+“Guess not.” He spoke half curiously, half
+unwillingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, old Brodman was a pretty decent
+citizen&mdash;all right in his way. But he was
+jest as human as you, Sam. So it happened
+once he got to figgerin’ that the town was
+down on him and treatin’ him mean. ‘I’ll
+get even with ’em,’ he says to himself; ‘I’ll
+have nothin’ to do with ’em.’ So off he goes,
+and flocks all by himself for a good, long
+spell. At last, though, it gets sorter tiresome,
+and back he trots, and runs smack into one<span class="pagenum">[70]</span>
+of his old neighbors. ‘Hello!’ says the neighbor,
+casual like. ‘How do you do?’ says old
+Brodman, all dignified. The neighbor yawns
+and looks at the sky. ‘Kinder threatenin’
+rain, ain’t it?’ says he. Old Brodman glares
+at him. ‘Look here!’ says he, ‘don’t you
+and all the rest of the town know I’ve been
+away? Hain’t ye missed me?’ ‘Wal, I
+wouldn’t exactly call it “missed,”’ says the
+neighbor. ‘You see, Brodman, ’most everybody
+thought you was in jail.’”</p>
+
+<p>Sam sprang to his feet. He crossed the
+room to a window, through which he stared
+industriously.</p>
+
+<p>“If you’d like to have the moral o’ that
+story,” Lon went on, “it’s that one human
+can’t buck all the rest. The odds are too big.
+What’s a ton to him ain’t a featherweight to
+the world. And applyin’ that moral to a
+case nearer home, I’d say you’d better make
+up your mind to go back to your crowd, and
+<a id="BRef_70" href="#Ref_70">grin and bear it</a>. And the more you grin, the
+less you’ll have to bear.”</p>
+
+<div id="Ref_70" class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i073.jpg" alt="" />
+<div class="caption"><p class="center">“<a href="#BRef_70">GRIN AND BEAR IT</a>”</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>“I won’t do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Safety First! Ain’t that your
+motto?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[71]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It doesn’t apply here.”</p>
+
+<p>“’Deed it does! Don’t let your notions get
+twisted.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam continued to stare out of the window.
+“You’re asking too much, Lon. I can’t stand
+being a butt for a lot of fool jokes&mdash;I won’t
+stand it!”</p>
+
+<p>“What’ll you do? Turn hermit?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, no.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon resumed his work. There was a long
+pause before he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Sam, you take my advice. You’ve been
+mopin’ around the place for two-three days.
+Get out and stretch your legs. Take a big
+tramp&mdash;a reg’lar hike. Wonderful what a lot
+of brain fog you can walk away from if you
+walk far enough.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam shook his head. “No fun in that.
+It’s beginning to snow, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, go to-morrow, then. A fresh fall
+will make crackin’ good snow-shoein’.”</p>
+
+<p>“No fun going alone.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon grinned. “Son, I guess, after all, that
+story about old Brodman did sink in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Don’t think it’s much of a story,”
+Sam growled, and moved toward the door.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[72]</span></p>
+
+<p>“That depends,” Lon called after him.
+“A story’s like a crowbar&mdash;makes all the
+difference in the world whether you use it
+right or wrong.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[73]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">SNOW-SHOES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The morning dawned clear and still. Over
+night there had been a fall of several inches
+of snow, freshening the white of the winter
+landscape. Even the roadways were not dingy
+now, while the fields were broad and smooth
+and shining expanses. Sam heard the call of
+out-of-doors, but hesitated to obey it. The
+day was his, to do with as he pleased, for it
+was Saturday, and there was no school session.
+But, somehow, the call was of the sort that
+one ought not to hear alone, being, indeed, a
+comradely, sociable call of good fellowship.</p>
+
+<p>To make the most of such a day one ought
+to be with one’s chums. Sam understood this
+perfectly&mdash;and stubbornly fought the understanding.
+Lon’s advice had not been wasted,
+though it had not persuaded Sam to seek the
+Safety First Club boys again.</p>
+
+<p>After all, his problem was not so simple as<span class="pagenum">[74]</span>
+it might appear to be. In addition to the resentment
+felt by a sensitive fellow, something
+was involved which, for want of a better term,
+might be called “club politics.” Sam had
+been the leader of the crowd and of the club.
+Often his had been the deciding opinion, when
+his mates had failed to agree. It can hardly
+be said that he had consciously sought the
+leadership, but it could not be denied that he
+enjoyed it. And he was a sufficiently shrewd
+judge of boy nature&mdash;which is a good deal
+like human nature in general&mdash;to realize that
+a leader who is laughed at is not likely to retain
+his prestige. Besides, he had failed to
+take the easy way out of his trouble at the
+beginning. If he could have laughed with
+the others, and made a joke of his embarrassment,
+the whole affair might now be an old
+story; but the others having rocked with
+laughter, while he stood miserably silent, it
+was still a story the club found intensely
+diverting.</p>
+
+<p>Sam pressed his nose against the window-pane,
+and stared unhappily at the crisp, white
+snow. It was very inviting&mdash;but the idea of
+a lonely tramp did not appeal to him. And<span class="pagenum">[75]</span>
+while he gazed disconsolately, Paul Varley
+came along the street, with a pair of snow-shoes
+under his arm.</p>
+
+<p>Sam regarded him hungrily. To tell the
+truth, Varley filled the eye. His gay-colored
+knitted cap was set jauntily on his head; a
+mackinaw jacket of striking pattern was buttoned
+about him, and leggins and moccasins
+added to the general effect of his apparel.</p>
+
+<p>Sam watched the city youth disappear up
+the street. Then, suddenly, he turned from
+the window. Inspiration had seized him.</p>
+
+<p>Varley undoubtedly would put on his
+snow-shoes when he reached the outskirts
+of the town, and strike out over the hills.
+If he kept near the main road, it would be
+possible for a pursuer to use a short-cut, and
+overhaul him without much difficulty. Just
+at the time, too, Varley was almost the only
+fellow with whom Sam felt that he could foregather
+without sacrifice of pride, for in the
+matter of the runaway Varley’s part had been
+sufficiently inglorious. So Sam made haste.
+He got himself into cap and coat, and laid
+hold of his snow-shoes, and departed by way
+of back streets and paths which lessened distance.<span class="pagenum">[76]</span>
+Where the houses were few and far
+between, and there were long stretches of snow
+unmarked by runner or footprint, he adjusted
+his snow-shoes with practiced care, and headed
+up a little valley, marked here and there by
+clumps of trees. Traveling briskly, he soon
+reached the end of the valley, and climbed a
+low hill to his left. At its top ran the road
+Varley was likely to follow. So shrewdly
+had Sam made his calculations that, when he
+gained the summit, he saw the other approaching
+and hardly a hundred yards away.</p>
+
+<p>For a novice Varley was not doing badly.
+His speed, to be sure, was not great, and he
+floundered along a bit clumsily on his web-supports;
+but he took no tumbles while Sam
+waited for him to come up.</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo, Parker!” he called out, as he drew
+near. “Where did you drop from?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m just taking a little breezer,” responded
+Sam carelessly. “Pretty good going,
+eh?”</p>
+
+<p>Varley laughed. “I guess it’s good; I don’t
+know. This is a new game for me.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam surveyed him from head to foot. “Well,
+you’re rigged for it, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[77]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I outfitted at one of the big sporting-goods
+stores before I left the city. Sometimes
+I wonder if I didn’t rather overdo
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re all right,” said Sam shortly, if
+encouragingly. “Say! that’s a newfangled
+sandal you’ve got there.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley glanced at the leather foot-piece attached
+to the snow-shoe and into which his
+foot fitted snugly.</p>
+
+<p>“They told me it was the latest thing.
+Somehow, though, I’m not sure that it works
+as it ought to.”</p>
+
+<p>Down went Sam on his knee. He made
+close inspection; pulled experimentally at one
+of the sandals; shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Your left foot’s too far back&mdash;gives you no
+toe-hold. Want me to shift it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Wish you would!” said Varley heartily.
+With interest he watched Sam set to work
+deftly, loosening the thongs which bound the
+sandal to the web and then readjusting them
+and knotting them firmly.</p>
+
+<p>“There! Guess that’ll give the play you
+need,” said Sam, and stood up.</p>
+
+<p>Varley nodded. “Feels better, anyway.<span class="pagenum">[78]</span>
+And I say! Mind, do you, if I trot along
+with you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Course not&mdash;come along!” Sam told him
+with real heartiness.</p>
+
+<p>Varley ran his glance over the miles of
+country visible from the little elevation on
+which they stood. The morning air was wonderfully
+clear, and the snow glittered bravely
+in the wintry sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but this is bully!” he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>“’Tis pretty good,” Sam admitted. “Look!
+Notice that peak sticking up to the north&mdash;way
+off&mdash;right on the sky-line? That’s old
+Pequaket&mdash;one of the big hills, you know.
+It’s all of seventy miles off&mdash;you can’t see it,
+except when things are right. And the little
+mountain to the south&mdash;that’s Rainbow.
+’Tisn’t much of a mountain, at that, but somehow
+it manages to make quite a show. And
+there’s a hotel at the base of it. Nice place,
+too. Began by being a summer house, but
+now one wing’s kept open for folks who come
+up for winter sports.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley shaded his eyes with his hand.
+“How far away’s the little mountain&mdash;Rainbow,
+you called it, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[79]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, eight or nine miles.”</p>
+
+<p>Out went Varley’s arm. He pointed to a
+gap in a ridge to the right.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a queer jog off there. What is it?
+Railroad cut?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; it’s the entrance to Sugar Valley.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ah,” said Varley politely, but without especial
+interest.</p>
+
+<p>Sam felt the blood rush to his face, but
+plunged ahead with the explanation he seemed
+to be bound to make. “The valley widens
+out a lot a little way in. And there are some
+fine sugar camps&mdash;that’s how the place gets its
+name.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sugar camps?” Varley repeated doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes&mdash;for making maple sugar.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, maple sugar? I get you. I’d like to
+see ’em make it.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam could have hugged him. Plainly
+enough, Sugar Valley did not suggest Mrs.
+Grant and her manifestation of gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll have plenty of chances. The season
+comes when the snow goes. Now let’s get
+along! Care where we go?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bit,” said Varley. “You lead.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[80]</span></p>
+
+<p>It was rather incautious permission. Sam,
+elated by discovery of a companion who appeared
+to have lost sight of the runaway and
+its consequences, cheered by fellowship, and
+with the magic of the bracing air and the sunshine
+to set his blood coursing swiftly, set out
+at a pace which soon left Varley floundering
+far in the rear. Observing this, Sam halted
+for the other to overtake him, and went on
+more sedately, pausing now and then to give
+Varley a helpful hint. The city boy was an
+apt pupil. He learned quickly, but it was clear
+that his strength was not great. Sam, who was
+an observant fellow, slackened pace still more.</p>
+
+<p>With such a day, though, neither of the pair
+was likely to consider very seriously the distance
+covered. They went on and on, sometimes
+tramping over the unbroken snow beside
+the road, sometimes making detours
+across promising fields. Once or twice they
+invaded wooded tracts, but roots and branches
+proved too big a tax on Varley’s skill, and
+they promptly made for the open. They were
+in high spirits, the novice’s occasional tumbles
+seeming to be as entertaining to him as to his
+instructor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[81]</span></p>
+
+<p>At last, as they halted on the top of a small
+hill, a sound came to their ears, a far-off sound,
+not loud but distinct, and often repeated.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?” Varley asked curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Guess!” said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>The other listened intently. There’s no
+stillness more wonderful than that of a calm
+day when the snow lies deep on the ground,
+and the earth seems to be dozing comfortably
+under its white coverlet. Tap, tap, tap! came
+the distant sounds, breaking the silence with
+almost the regularity of the beat of a pendulum.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I can’t imagine what makes those
+sounds, but they’re&mdash;well, they’re clear-cut&mdash;if
+you can call it that.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re guessing better than you knew,”
+quoth Sam. “Wood-chopper over in the woods
+yonder.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean a lumberman?”</p>
+
+<p>“More likely some farm-hand getting out
+fire-wood.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve never seen a tree cut down&mdash;a big
+tree, that is.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam laughed. “Well, that chap probably
+isn’t leveling any forest monarch, but if you’d<span class="pagenum">[82]</span>
+like to see him work, there’s no reason why
+you shouldn’t. Come ahead!”</p>
+
+<p>Off they set again, Sam leading. They
+crossed a valley at the foot of the hill,
+mounted a gradual slope on the farther side,
+climbed an old stone wall, and found themselves
+in a wood lot, fairly free of undergrowth.
+The sounds of the axe were much
+louder now. Sam, pointing, gave a shout.</p>
+
+<p>“See that treetop sway? We’ll be in time
+to see it come down!”</p>
+
+<p>They hurried forward. That is, Sam hurried
+and made progress. Varley, also making haste,
+caught a snow-shoe on a hidden obstruction,
+and took a magnificent header into a drift.
+He was struggling up in a second, powdered
+with snow from head to foot, with snow up
+his sleeves and down his neck, but grinning
+cheerily in spite of his mishap.</p>
+
+<p>Sam, glancing back, shouted again. Varley
+took a step forward. Then suddenly he cried
+out, sharply, warningly.</p>
+
+<p>The tree was no longer swaying back and
+forth. Instead, the tall trunk was falling like
+a great beam swinging on a pivot at its base.
+Its limbs tore through the boughs of its<span class="pagenum">[83]</span>
+smaller neighbors, but above the noise of
+cracking and breaking wood rose a voice,
+shrill with alarm.</p>
+
+<p>It was all over with startling swiftness.
+Here was a case in which fractions of a second
+counted. The woodsman, stepping back when
+his final blow with the axe had been delivered,
+had heard Sam’s shout. For an instant his
+attention had been distracted; and in that
+fateful instant the course of the falling tree
+was diverted from its original direction.
+When the man became aware of his peril,
+the trunk was descending straight upon him.
+He tried to spring aside, but it was too late to
+escape. He was caught, hurled to the ground,
+and held there, with the tree trunk fairly
+across his body.</p>
+
+<p>Varley had had just a glimpse of what was
+occurring. It was because of this that he had
+cried out, instinctively trying to give warning,
+though he hardly realized the full danger to
+the man, of whom he first caught sight just
+before the tree struck him.</p>
+
+<p>Sam, who had not perceived how near they
+were to the chopper until Varley gave him a
+hint, needed but a glance to understand the<span class="pagenum">[84]</span>
+sort of accident which had befallen. He
+dashed to the side of the prostrate workman,
+caught his arm, and tried to drag him from
+beneath the tree. The effort was in vain.
+The man groaned feebly, and opened his
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Varley, quivering with excitement, came
+up, and tugged uselessly at the tree trunk.</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t we lift this? Tell me what to do&mdash;anything!
+I can’t stir it&mdash;it must weigh
+tons!” he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Sam was doing his best to think fast and
+clearly. The chopper, a big, powerful fellow
+though he was, could do nothing to help himself.
+Even had he suffered no injury he was
+so pinned down that he was held as if he
+were trapped. But for the deep cushion of
+snow he must have been terribly crushed;
+and even this had not served to save him
+from hurts which the boy believed to be
+serious enough.</p>
+
+<p>The man spoke faintly, brokenly: “Get&mdash;get
+somebody! Over on the road&mdash;there’ll
+be somebody drivin’ along.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam bent over him. “Where’s the nearest
+house?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[85]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Too&mdash;too far. And only the women folks
+to home. Try the&mdash;the road!”</p>
+
+<p>“Where are you hurt&mdash;worst?”</p>
+
+<p>The man made a feeble attempt to raise his
+head. With an effort he suppressed a moan.
+Big drops of sweat were showing on his forehead.</p>
+
+<p>“Ribs&mdash;two-three cracked or&mdash;or caved in.
+Hur&mdash;hurry, can’t ye?”</p>
+
+<p>Varley caught Sam’s sleeve. “I’ll go!
+Best thing to do. I’m no good here, and you
+may be. All right?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam nodded. He did not see what service
+he could render by remaining; yet he was
+unwilling to desert the sufferer, and Varley
+could do as much as he could in summoning
+passers-by to the rescue.</p>
+
+<p>“Beat it, then!” he said crisply.</p>
+
+<p>Varley set off at the best pace he could
+make; and while Sam was studying the problem
+of first aid under difficulties, <a id="BRef_Frontispiece" href="#Ref_Frontispiece">his new
+comrade was racing across the fields</a>. Breathless
+from his exertions, he reached the highway
+just as two youths on snow-shoes came
+into sight around a bend. Varley recognized
+them as Poke and Step. They were not the<span class="pagenum">[86]</span>
+aids he would have chosen in such an emergency,
+but this was not a time for delay.</p>
+
+<p>Step hailed him with amazement. “Hullo!
+What are you doing off here by your lonesome?
+Lost, are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Come&mdash;come along!” Varley panted.
+“Both&mdash;both of you! Man hurt&mdash;over in
+the woods!”</p>
+
+<p>“But what are you&mdash;&mdash;?”</p>
+
+<p>Varley didn’t let Step finish the question.</p>
+
+<p>“Hustle! It’s a&mdash;a bad job. Parker sent
+me&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“What! Sam Parker hurt?”</p>
+
+<p>Varley wrung his hands in impatience.
+“No, no! Tree fell on a fellow. Parker
+stayed with him, and sent me for help.”</p>
+
+<p>Step looked vastly relieved. “Oh, that’s
+it, eh? And Sam’s all right? And he’s staying
+with the other chap? Well, he knows
+what to do, if anybody knows.”</p>
+
+<p>So speaking, Step swung one of his long
+legs over the low wall, and followed it with
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>“Poke and I are just out for a breather&mdash;great
+going, eh? But if you’re after hustle,
+I’m your man. So’s Poke. Come along!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[87]</span></p>
+
+<p>Varley turned, and headed for the woods,
+the others keeping close beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“If you’ve got wind enough, tell us just
+what happened,” Step suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Varley did his best to comply. It is to be
+feared, though, that his story was not very
+coherent. Indeed, he had given his companions
+little more than an outline of the story
+when they reached the timber.</p>
+
+<p>Sam had not been idle. He had scraped
+away a good deal of the snow about the injured
+man, and having found a stout pole,
+was experimenting with it as a lever, though
+he had not succeeded in raising the tree trunk
+by an inch.</p>
+
+<p>The victim of the accident was groaning
+faintly; but he pluckily gritted his teeth,
+when Step and Poke sprang to the lever, and
+hoisted with all their strength. Then Varley
+added his efforts. The tree rose very, very
+slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“Try to hold her where she is!” Sam told
+his comrades.</p>
+
+<p>Bending down, he caught the man by the
+shoulders, and with all possible care drew him
+from beneath the huge, imprisoning bar. The<span class="pagenum">[88]</span>
+sufferer’s face was contorted with pain, but his
+grit didn’t fail him.</p>
+
+<p>“Goo&mdash;good work, boys!” he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>The three at the lever loosened their hold,
+and the tree settled back to its bed in the
+snow. Varley tore off his gay mackinaw.
+He was about to put it under the man’s head
+when Sam stopped him.</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on! You’ve given me a hint. We
+ought to get him out of here and under shelter.
+And we need a stretcher.... Don’t
+roll up that jacket. Button it, though, and
+see that the sleeves are clear.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley obeyed, wonderingly, while Sam
+stripped off his own overcoat.</p>
+
+<p>“Get a couple of poles&mdash;good, straight
+ones!” he said curtly to Step and Poke.</p>
+
+<p>The former had a big knife; the latter
+caught up the woodsman’s axe. In a moment
+each had cut a promising sapling and
+was lopping away the leafless branches.</p>
+
+<p>Sam slipped an end of one of the poles inside
+Varley’s coat, and through the right
+sleeve. Then he repeated the operation with
+the other pole, this time, however, making
+use of the left sleeve. A moment more, and<span class="pagenum">[89]</span>
+he had similarly disposed of his own overcoat
+at the other end of the poles, and was drawing
+the two garments close together. Thus
+he had an extemporized stretcher, with the
+coats as cover and the saplings as supports.
+It was not a handsome contrivance, but looked
+serviceable. The heavy outer jackets were of
+stout cloth, and the sleeves would prevent the
+poles from working loose.</p>
+
+<p>And now came a difficult task&mdash;the placing
+of the sufferer on the stretcher. In this all
+the boys joined, doing their work as gently as
+they could. The woodsman did his best to
+help, but in spite of his pluck a deep groan
+burst from his lips, and his face was ashen
+when at last he lay upon the coats.</p>
+
+<p>At a nod from Sam the boys laid hold of
+the poles, Sam himself and Step at the man’s
+head, and Poke and Varley at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Easy, everybody!” was the leader’s caution,
+but it was hardly necessary. With all
+imaginable care the stretcher was raised, and
+the bearers began their slow march. Luckily,
+the hardest part of it was soon over. Once
+they were out of the woods and in the open
+fields progress was easier, especially for Varley,<span class="pagenum">[90]</span>
+who was still far from master of his snow-shoes.</p>
+
+<p>Sam had learned where the man lived, and
+directed their course toward the house, which
+was perhaps a quarter-mile from the scene of
+the accident. Before reaching it they came to
+the road, and had to solve a problem in scaling
+the wall with their burden. This they
+accomplished safely, though not without much
+trouble; but, as if in speedy reward, they then
+experienced an unexpected bit of good fortune.</p>
+
+<p>A white horse came trotting along the
+beaten track, drawing a sleigh in which rode
+a gray old man, muffled in a huge fur coat.
+At sight of the party the old man pulled up.</p>
+
+<p>“Dr. Emery!” cried Poke and Step joyfully.</p>
+
+<p>The doctor sprang from the sleigh. He
+needed no explanation of what had happened.
+He made hasty examination of the woodsman;
+glanced at the extemporized stretcher;
+grunted.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Good idea, that! Rough and
+ready, but it answers. And you’re bringing
+him in? Right!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[91]</span></p>
+
+<p>The injured man forced the wanest and
+faintest of smiles.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Doc!” he whispered. “Them&mdash;them
+boys&mdash;they&mdash;they’ve got gumption!”</p>
+
+<p>The doctor nodded briskly, and began to
+climb into his sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s only a little way to the house&mdash;’twouldn’t
+pay to try to load him in here.
+I’ll go ahead, and have things ready to take
+care of him. Get him to the door, and there
+I’ll take him off your hands.”</p>
+
+<p>Step tightened his grip on the stretcher
+pole. He looked to Sam for orders.</p>
+
+<p>“Give us the word, Sam,” he said. “You’re
+captain of this team.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam felt his pulse quicken. Circumstances
+had done for him what he would have been
+puzzled to do for himself. Once more he and
+his chums of the club were on the good old
+terms of fellowship.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[92]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">A LITTLE LUNCH</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>“Well! I’m mighty glad that’s over.
+But now what are we going to do?”</p>
+
+<p>It was Step who spoke thus, addressing
+Poke and Sam and Varley, as they stood
+grouped in the road before the house in
+which they had left the injured man. Nearly
+an hour had passed since they brought him
+home on the extemporized stretcher, and it
+had been a busy hour at that. Dr. Emery
+had not hesitated to press the boys into service.
+They had gone on errands to neighbors’
+houses; they had assisted in the transfer of
+the victim of the accident from the stretcher
+to his bed; they had brought in a supply of
+fire-wood for the woman of the house; Poke
+had driven away in the doctor’s sleigh and
+returned with a nurse of much experience in
+caring for the sick of the countryside. At
+last, though, all that could be done had been<span class="pagenum">[93]</span>
+done. The doctor had resumed his interrupted
+round; the nurse of experience had
+taken charge of the distracted household; the
+sufferer was resting as comfortably as one
+might hope to rest with fractured ribs and
+bruised body and limbs.</p>
+
+<p>“Boys, you’ve behaved like trumps,” had
+been Dr. Emery’s parting words. “It has
+been a good morning’s work for all of you.
+Guess I’ll have to enroll you as my first-aid
+detachment.”</p>
+
+<p>With that he clucked to his horse, and
+rode off, leaving the four in the road. There
+followed a long silence, which Step ended.
+The boys looked at each other. Step had
+uttered the thought of all of them. What
+were they to do next?</p>
+
+<p>The strain and the excitement were over.
+Not one of them but felt the reaction. Varley
+gave a queer little laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Fellows, this sort of thing’s all new to
+me. I&mdash;well, it’s taken all the ginger out
+of me. I feel like a&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Like a rag?” Sam suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Varley nodded. “That’s it! Like a rag,
+and a wet rag, to boot.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[94]</span></p>
+
+<p>Poke wagged his head solemnly. “I
+know! Been there myself. Sort of gets
+you here&mdash;&mdash;” and he laid a hand on
+his stomach.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s just it! It isn’t exactly as if you
+were hungry, but like it, somehow.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam, the practical, pulled out his watch,
+and whistled softly.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! No wonder you chaps feel that
+way. It’s twenty minutes to twelve.”</p>
+
+<p>“And dinner’s six or seven miles away!”
+gasped Poke.</p>
+
+<p>“Nearer eight.”</p>
+
+<p>This time Poke didn’t gasp; he groaned.
+“I see where somebody I know gets mighty
+unpopular at our house. Confound fussy
+folks, anyway!”</p>
+
+<p>“Same thing at our place,” quoth Step and
+drew a long face. “If a fellow’s late for a
+meal they act as if they thought he ought to
+be in jail.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s up to us to make tracks,” said
+Sam, then cast a half dubious glance at
+Varley; a hurried march back to town would
+be no joke for the novice on snow-shoes.</p>
+
+<p>Varley noted the glance, and read it aright.<span class="pagenum">[95]</span>
+“Wait a minute, fellows,” he said. “I’ll own
+up. I’m almost all in. No, I don’t mean I’m
+leg-weary exactly; it’s more wear and tear on
+nerves, I guess. If I could have a bite to eat
+and a chance to sit down by a fire for a while,
+I’d be all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! I guess that’s what Jonah said
+when he found himself inside the whale!”
+jeered Step.</p>
+
+<p>Sam spoke quickly. “Varley’s hit it! I
+feel the same way, only I didn’t know enough
+to say so. I don’t hanker for that tramp
+home, but what else is there to do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” agreed Poke gloomily. “We
+might as well start.”</p>
+
+<p>But again Varley delayed them. “Hold
+on! Parker, you told me about a hotel at
+the foot of Rainbow Mountain, didn’t you?
+Unless I’m all wrong in my geography, we
+must have been traveling toward it, and it
+can’t be very far away.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not more than a mile,” said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>The other’s face brightened. “Then I’ve a
+scheme. Let’s go there and get something to
+eat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Sam doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[96]</span></p>
+
+<p>Step shook his head, and Poke slapped a
+pocket, from which came no cheering jingling
+of coin.</p>
+
+<p>“My treat, of course!” cried Varley hastily.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess we’d better not&mdash;thank you, of
+course, though.”</p>
+
+<p>That was Sam’s instinctive observation.
+Step shook his head harder than ever. Poke
+rubbed his chin uncertainly; at that moment
+he was conscious of a peculiarly vigorous
+appetite.</p>
+
+<p>Varley seemed to know how to meet the
+objections of the others.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come now!” said he persuasively.
+“You fellows have been doing things for
+me, and helping me out with these contraptions&mdash;&mdash;”
+he glanced at his snow-shoes.
+“You’ve given me a lot of pointers. Give
+me a show to even up part of it. Parker
+tells me the hotel is open. We’ll go there
+and get a little lunch, and loaf around for a
+while, and start for town when we feel like it.
+It’s the one sensible thing to do. Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>None of the others found it easy to explain
+why it was not the sensible thing. And Varley’s
+careless reference to the proposed refreshment<span class="pagenum">[97]</span>
+as a “little lunch” certainly did seem
+to throw new light on the case and remove
+in some degree the sense of incurring undue
+obligation.</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why&mdash;I don’t know&mdash;that is, I
+don’t see&mdash;&mdash;” Poke began.</p>
+
+<p>“’Twould be fun,” Step admitted.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly it will&mdash;come along!” Varley
+urged.</p>
+
+<p>Sam hesitated. The case was of a sort to
+perplex an older and wiser head than his.
+On the one hand was reluctance to accept
+hospitality he might not be able to return;
+on the other was dread of appearing boorishly
+unresponsive. His pocket money chanced to
+be low; and he was quite sure Step and Poke
+were in the same plight. So it couldn’t very
+well be a “Dutch treat.” And pride revolted
+a bit&mdash;town pride, perhaps&mdash;at being at a
+disadvantage, compared with the city youth.
+But Sam was hungry. Poke was hungry, too,
+and so was Step.</p>
+
+<p>Varley tugged at Sam’s sleeve. “Let’s trot
+along!” he urged. “Just a little lunch, you
+know. Make us feel like fighting cocks, it
+will. And I don’t mind telling you I need<span class="pagenum">[98]</span>
+something like grub to take away that goneness.”</p>
+
+<p>It was the repetition of the “little lunch”
+which turned the scales with Sam. Rather
+vaguely he pictured light refreshment&mdash;sandwiches,
+maybe, and a boiled egg or two&mdash;to
+be enjoyed picnic fashion.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’m with you, Varley&mdash;and
+much obliged,” he said. “Do as much for
+you some day. And I’d be glad to have a
+look at the Rainbow Mountain House. They
+say it’s a very good hotel.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’ll find out how good it is!” cried
+Varley jubilantly. “Come ahead!”</p>
+
+<p>It was a generous mile that lay between the
+boys and the hotel, but with the spur of hunger
+and the equally encouraging sense of mild
+adventure, they covered the distance briskly
+enough. On the road Varley was a humble
+follower of his companions, but when they
+entered the big lobby of the hostelry, he took
+command of the expedition.</p>
+
+<p>The others hesitated briefly, glancing about
+them at the great fire blazing cheerily, at the
+many easy chairs, at the tables on which were
+ranged newspapers and magazines, at the deer<span class="pagenum">[99]</span>
+heads on the wall, at the half dozen guests
+who were in evidence, some of them in the
+fur coats in which they had just returned
+from a long drive in sleighs. But Varley
+unconcernedly crossed to the desk, and addressed
+the clerk on duty.</p>
+
+<p>“Lunch for four,” he said. “And we’d
+like it at once, if we can have it.”</p>
+
+<p>The clerk pushed forward the big register,
+and offered Varley a pen.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” said he. “Luncheon is served
+in the main dining-room.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley entered the names of the party in
+the book&mdash;he had to ask Step and Poke’s
+initials, but he wrote “Samuel Parker” without
+hesitation. Then he stepped back, smiling
+cheerily.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll freshen up a bit, and then go right
+in,” said he.</p>
+
+<p>Both Sam and Step had been studying the
+lobby and the people, but Poke was staring,
+in a sort of fascination, at a tall vase at an end
+of the desk. It was slender and graceful of
+line, and was made of a prismatic glass, which
+caught the light and reflected it in many-hued
+brilliance.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[100]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Golly! Look at the sparkle!” he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s our mascot&mdash;our luck piece,” the
+clerk explained. “Odd thing, isn’t it?
+You’re quite right about the sparkle&mdash;regular
+rainbow effect, in fact. That’s why it fits the
+Rainbow Mountain House, you see.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke wagged his head in his solemn
+fashion. “I do see it. And it is&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;it
+is mighty&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;appropriate.”</p>
+
+<p>But Varley was tugging at his sleeve.
+“Oh, come along! A plate with a lot on it
+would look still more appropriate.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke yielded to the pull. “There’s room
+for more than one good thing in the world at
+a time,” he remarked philosophically. “I’ll
+be glad enough to eat, but that&mdash;that sparkler&mdash;say,
+somehow it takes my fancy a lot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you can sit down after lunch and
+admire it,” Varley reminded him. “Just
+now your first duty to yourself is to play an
+engagement in the dining-room.”</p>
+
+<p>The Rainbow Mountain House was a very
+comfortable, well-managed hotel, whose landlord
+had a theory that people liked good
+things to eat. His winter guests especially<span class="pagenum">[101]</span>
+were likely to be blessed with vigorous appetites,
+and he took especial pains not to disappoint
+them. So, while the midday meal
+was known as luncheon, it was, in fact, a
+substantial repast, daintily served in the big,
+sunny dining-room. Sam’s first glimpse of
+the bill of fare made him glance swiftly, and
+suspiciously, at Varley. A little lunch, forsooth!
+Why, this was a dinner of half a
+dozen courses. But Varley met the glance
+blandly and with no recognition, apparently,
+of the fact that it was suspicious. He was
+entirely at his ease in presiding over the table
+to which the boys had been conducted; and
+what was more, he put his guests at their
+ease.</p>
+
+<p>Truth to tell, the four had an excellent
+time. All of them had been at still larger
+and more pretentious hotels than the Rainbow
+Mountain House, but always in company
+with their elders; and this little party had
+the agreeable tang of novelty and independence.
+Varley kept the talk going briskly.
+He told a story or two of his misadventures at
+boarding-school. He added another of an
+odd experience while traveling in Europe,<span class="pagenum">[102]</span>
+but gave no hint of regarding himself as a
+person of superior talents or attainments; for
+quite as cheerfully he related some of the
+amusing blunders into which he had been led
+by ignorance of the ways of the country.
+Then the other boys recalled tales to cap his,
+so that, altogether, it was a very merry group
+about the table.</p>
+
+<p>Finally the meal was over, and Varley
+tipped the waitress with a practiced ease
+which vastly impressed the observant Poke.
+The four went out into the lobby, and found
+chairs near the great fire. They were filled
+with the comforting sense of ease and refreshment,
+and nobody was disposed to suggest an
+early start on the long tramp to town. It was
+much better fun to toast before the fire and
+watch the people come straggling in, some
+from snow-shoe expeditions, others from
+coasting. There was a pleasant murmur of
+talk, with a deal of rippling laughter and a
+subdued bustle, very restful and soothing to
+the well-fed listener.</p>
+
+<p>Varley sauntered over to the desk. There
+he paid the bill. The other boys saw him
+draw a roll of notes from his pocket, pass one<span class="pagenum">[103]</span>
+to the clerk, and stow away his change with
+barely a glance at the silver.</p>
+
+<p>“Gee! but he’s well heeled!” Poke whispered
+to Sam, admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>Sam nodded, but said nothing. It was
+clear that Varley was well supplied with
+spending money; but he was not moved to
+comment on the fact.</p>
+
+<p>“Say! He knows how to do things up
+brown!” Poke insisted.</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed he does!” Sam agreed heartily
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>Poke stretched himself luxuriously. “This
+is one bully place! I like everything about
+it. Cracking good feed, wasn’t it? And that
+shiny vase over there&mdash;&mdash; Say, somehow I
+can’t keep my eyes off it!”</p>
+
+<p>“It is pretty.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pretty!” Poke’s tone was protesting.
+“That’s a mild way to put it. I could sit
+and look at it for an hour at a time.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam made no reply. He was watching
+Varley, who was talking to the clerk, but
+who finally wheeled, and returned to his companions,
+smiling a trifle uncertainly.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope you won’t think I’m too much of a<span class="pagenum">[104]</span>
+quitter,” he said, “but I may as well own up.
+I don’t fancy that hike back. So I’ve made a
+deal with that fellow to send us home in a
+sleigh. We can start whenever we’re ready.
+And&mdash;and I hope you won’t mind.”</p>
+
+<p>It was on the tip of Sam’s tongue to make
+protest, but Step spoke first.</p>
+
+<p>“Mind? Not I! I’m not too proud to
+ride&mdash;not by a long shot.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good! Then we’ll consider that settled,”
+said Varley quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Poke shot a glance at Sam. “What did I
+tell you about doing things up brown?” he
+queried with a chuckle.</p>
+
+<p>Again Sam said nothing. As it happened,
+it did not occur to him that he needed to say
+anything.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[105]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE SHARK LECTURES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The Shark was out of humor. He sat in
+a corner of the club-room, glowering through
+his spectacles at his fellow members, and quite
+ignoring the chess-board on the table beside
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Now, though the Shark had a brusque manner
+and was often curt in speech, he really
+was a fellow of even disposition, and seldom
+became involved in disputes. One reason for
+this, perhaps, was the circumstance, observed
+by the philosophical Poke and by him communicated
+to the rest of the club, that “it was
+surprising how many things didn’t make any
+difference to the Shark.” Athletic rivalries
+did not excite him; school competitions, except
+in his specialty of mathematics, ordinarily
+had no interest for him; unless forced to do so,
+he gave no heed to school politics. The other
+members of the club might be in a fine state<span class="pagenum">[106]</span>
+of mind over any of a dozen questions without
+stirring the Shark perceptibly. So it was all
+the more curious that this day, when his
+friends appeared to be getting along in harmony,
+the Shark was having a fit of the sulks
+or the blues. He had been working over a
+chess problem&mdash;working and growling, it must
+be confessed&mdash;and having failed to reach its
+solution, had pushed back the board and was
+regarding the others darkly and with hostility.</p>
+
+<p>The club was in full session. Everybody
+was there, with Sam Parker fully restored to
+his old position of influence. A fortnight had
+passed since the rescue of the injured woodsman
+and Varley’s little lunch, two incidents
+which had restored Sam’s relations with Step
+and Poke and made easy his return to the
+fellowship of the club. There it was understood
+that Parker didn’t like to be joked about
+runaway horses or mince pies, and these topics
+being placed under taboo, things were going
+much as they had gone in the days before
+Mrs. Grant’s horse chose to bolt and before
+Varley came upon the scene.</p>
+
+<p>Sam enjoyed the renewed companionship.<span class="pagenum">[107]</span>
+It had needed a brief denial of it to realize
+what it meant to him. So he had been as
+little disposed to take offense as the others
+had been to give it; and there had been
+hardly a ripple of bickering anywhere until
+the Shark, of a sudden, developed a case of
+nerves and a yearning for squabbles.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re the most useless crowd!” he grumbled.
+“Why don’t you do something? Why
+don’t you get a move on? You’re loafing on
+the job, every one of you!”</p>
+
+<p>There was a long silence after this outburst,
+which took the others completely by surprise.
+Finally Sam spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what do you want to have us do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, anything!”</p>
+
+<p>“But what is there to do?” Step inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“What is there to do?” the Shark echoed
+scornfully. He sprang from his chair and
+came forward. “Look here, all of you! You
+make me tired! Why, right in this room a
+while ago I heard Step going on about this
+being the meanest, slowest, stupidest part of
+the year.”</p>
+
+<p>“So it is,” Step insisted.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what you said. There’s no skating,<span class="pagenum">[108]</span>
+and the snow-shoeing and sleighing and coasting
+are not worth having&mdash;wasn’t that your
+argument?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sticking to it still.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bosh!”</p>
+
+<p>Then Poke took a hand. “Tell you what
+it is, Shark,” said he. “Winter’s all right, in
+its way; but you can get too much of a good
+thing. It gets monotonous&mdash;leave it to you
+if it doesn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark declined to commit himself.
+“This gang is getting lazy. All it seems to
+care for is to sit around and tell stories.
+You’re as good for nothing as a lot of woodchucks
+stowed away in a hole till spring
+comes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, the woodchuck knows his business,”
+quoth Step.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s mighty poor business, all the same,
+for a pack of human beings.”</p>
+
+<p>Trojan Walker laughed softly. “Ha, ha!
+If you’d like my opinion, Shark, getting mad
+with the world because you can’t work out a
+chess problem is worse business still.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark whipped about to face him.
+“Can’t work it out, can’t I? Huh! Much<span class="pagenum">[109]</span>
+you know about it! I’ll show you now&mdash;no
+I won’t, either; you wouldn’t understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you would? And that’s what makes
+you so pleasant to all of us?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who wants to be pleasant to a crowd that
+just sits around and talks about a city fellow
+who happens to have more money than he
+knows what to do with?”</p>
+
+<p>“What! You mean Varley?”</p>
+
+<p>“Course I do!”</p>
+
+<p>There was another pause before anybody
+made answer to the charge. Two or three of
+the boys glanced inquiringly at Sam, as if
+they felt that here was a matter concerning
+which it behooved him to speak. So Sam it
+was who broke the silence.</p>
+
+<p>“Shark, what ails you, anyway? Varley’s
+all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! So’s his money and the big
+dinners it buys!”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?”</p>
+
+<p>“You heard well enough. You and Step
+and Poke haven’t been talking about anything
+for a week but that feed he gave you.”</p>
+
+<p>Step’s long arm shot out. He shook a
+finger under the Shark’s nose.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[110]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You mean we’re toadying to him because
+he treated us to lunch? Say that, straight
+out, and I’ll smash you!”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark was a head shorter than the tall
+Step, but he was in no mood to shrink from
+controversy, vocal or physical. He bristled
+belligerently.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t dare do it! And you can’t
+put words in my mouth!”</p>
+
+<p>“Take it back then!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll take nothing back&mdash;that I’ve said.”</p>
+
+<p>A little voice seemed to whisper in Sam’s
+ear that the Safety First Club was hardly
+living up to its name. He caught Step’s
+wrist, and drew the tall youth back. Then
+he addressed the still bristling Shark.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t like what you’ve said any better
+than Step likes it. But I don’t intend to let
+anybody get into a fight over it. It was a
+bully good dinner we had, and I’m not
+ashamed to say it was. You wouldn’t have
+me lie about it, would you?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no,” the Shark admitted.</p>
+
+<p>“And you wouldn’t expect me to pretend I
+was ashamed of accepting Varley’s invitation?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[111]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, no.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I haven’t hinted you were sore because
+you weren’t lucky enough to be there.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark reddened to the roots of his hair.
+“Anybody who says that&mdash;&mdash;” he began hotly.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t said it,” Sam interposed
+promptly. “Why haven’t I? Because I
+know, and every other fellow here knows, it
+isn’t true.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said the Shark, with a queer little
+gasp, and a perceptible lessening of ferocity.</p>
+
+<p>Sam pressed his advantage. “Be sensible,
+can’t you? I like Varley; so do most of the
+others. For some reason you don’t. That’s
+no excuse, though, for a general row. Varley
+isn’t thrusting himself in here or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! That’s just what he did do in the
+beginning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that was because he didn’t understand
+the custom about outsiders. But he
+was clever enough to guess visitors weren’t
+the usual thing. You’ll notice he hasn’t
+come here again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Good reason!”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I told him not to,” said the Shark grimly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[112]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sam stared at the spectacled youth. “You&mdash;you
+said that&mdash;to his face?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure!” said the Shark doggedly. “When?
+Oh, three-four days ago. Where? On the
+street, where we’d met, and where he’d
+stopped me, and begun to hint about what a
+smooth joint we had here, and how he’d like
+to look in occasionally. Then I told him it
+was a closed club. Why shouldn’t I tell him?
+Fact, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Only with a fellow from out of
+town, a stranger&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark interrupted Sam. “Look here!
+I don’t pretend to fancy Varley overmuch,
+but there I was treating him just as I’d treat
+the best friend I have. I let him have the
+truth. It’ll save him a lot of embarrassment.
+Besides, he isn’t what you’d call a stranger
+any more. He’s staying in town right along,
+and he’s going to school&mdash;no use trying to
+put him off in a class by himself.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam frowned, but Poke spoke sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“Hang it, Shark, but you have messed
+things! And after that cracking good dinner
+he treated us to&mdash;geeminy, but I wish I
+knew how we could even up things for that!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[113]</span></p>
+
+<p>“All right&mdash;go ahead and even them all
+you please,” growled the Shark; then his tone
+changed. “See here, you fellows! You’ve
+got me started, and I’m going to free my
+mind. I don’t like the way you’re behaving.
+You’re quitting on the job, the bunch of
+you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Bully boy, Shark! Go it!” jeered the
+Trojan.</p>
+
+<p>“I will! Listen! There isn’t one of you
+that’s stirred a finger to win that history essay
+prize. You mope around, and wail about the
+weather and the snow and nothing to do, and
+don’t even dream of trying to land that hundred
+dollars. Can you deny that, Trojan?
+Or you, Sam? Or you, Poke? Or Herman,
+or Step or Tom Orkney?” He was shaking
+an accusing hand at each of them in turn.
+“All of you heard what the principal said.
+Now hear what I say: It’s a shame and disgrace
+to the club that you’re letting this
+chance go by default.”</p>
+
+<p>“How about yourself?” Step demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m out of it. My line’s different. I can
+do things with figures, but not with words.
+Two or three of you fellows write decently.<span class="pagenum">[114]</span>
+Why don’t you pull together&mdash;it’s allowable,
+under the rules&mdash;and gather in that hundred?”</p>
+
+<p>Nobody took upon himself the responsibility
+of making reply.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark glanced from one to another.
+His manner was still grim.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right&mdash;think it over!” said he.
+“Let it sink in. And don’t forget the rest of
+the class is watching the club. I’ve had a
+couple of nasty raps handed me about a gang
+that put on a lot of side, yet didn’t have sand
+enough to make good at anything requiring
+real work.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who said that?” asked Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind! It was said&mdash;said to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve heard something of the sort,” said
+Tom Orkney quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Two or three of the others stirred uneasily;
+it was to be inferred that they, too, had been
+reminded of the club’s inactivity.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark picked up his cap.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I feel better,” quoth he. “I’ve got
+the thing off my chest. I’ve got to cut along
+now, but you fellows can mull over what I’ve
+told you. The lecture’s over; but it’s up to<span class="pagenum">[115]</span>
+you to show whether or not it’s going to do
+any good.”</p>
+
+<p>With that he walked out of the room, leaving
+a group whose members seemed to be of
+diverse opinions about his views. Step declared
+that it was hopeless to attempt to win
+the competition; Herman and the Trojan were
+uncertain; Orkney inclined to the idea that
+the attempt would be worth making.</p>
+
+<p>Poke, his face puckered and his air a bit
+mysterious, drew Sam aside.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here! The Shark has sure chucked
+the fat in the fire!” he whispered. “Say,
+we’ve got to do something!”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! I don’t believe the bunch of us
+can do much,” Sam objected.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not talking about the prize. It’s
+Varley I’m worrying about. Don’t you see,
+after the crack the Shark made to him, we’ve
+just got to wipe out the obligation for that
+dinner?”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish we could! Only I don’t see
+how&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Poke broke in, his manner more mysterious
+than ever. “Hold your horses, Sam! You
+watch me! No; I can’t lisp a word, but<span class="pagenum">[116]</span>
+maybe&mdash;well, there’s a chance your little old
+uncle will be able to square accounts and put
+us all on Easy Street, Shark or no Shark.
+How? Can’t breathe a syllable about it&mdash;now.
+Just watch and wait&mdash;that’s all you’ll
+have to do, Sam!”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[117]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">POKE’S MYSTERY</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Ordinarily, Sam might have thought little
+of Poke’s mysterious hint, for Poke’s fancy
+was lively at times, but the bearing of that
+well-fed youth continued to suggest consciousness
+of a great secret. Now and then he
+winked craftily at Sam, or wagged his head
+portentously, or shook with glee at thoughts
+he was not ready to confide to his friends.
+Observing which things, Sam meditated and
+wondered, and gained no clew to the mystery.</p>
+
+<p>Sam, though, had plenty of other interests
+to claim his attention. The Shark, after his
+outburst at the club, had resumed his manner
+of indifference. He neither repeated his
+criticisms of his mates nor displayed dislike
+for Varley, but went his own way in his old
+fashion. It was evident, however, that what
+he had said about the club and the prize
+essay had not fallen on wholly deaf ears.
+Herman Boyd and the Trojan came to Sam to<span class="pagenum">[118]</span>
+inquire if he really believed there would be a
+chance to carry off the honor, and Tom Orkney
+put the same question still more earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>“It does seem as if we ought to have a try at
+it,” he said. “The Shark was more than half
+right about the&mdash;the&mdash;well, about the ‘laying
+down’ business. And if you think there’s a
+show for any of us, it looks as if the club
+should get busy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Some of the other crowds talking?” Sam
+queried shrewdly.</p>
+
+<p>Orkney nodded. “I’d be likeliest to hear
+it&mdash;last fellow in the club, you know. So I’m
+told things that might not be said directly to
+the rest of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“What sort of things?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that the club flocks by itself, and
+puts on airs, but never amounts to much when
+it comes to a pinch; that it never gathers in
+any prizes except the mathematical ones, and
+they’re just the Shark’s meat; that here’s a
+big prize we won’t get because no one in the
+crowd has the sand to make a fight for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly!” said Sam. He was quite aware
+of the jealousies due to cliques in a school, and
+more than once had noted some very open<span class="pagenum">[119]</span>
+fishing for an invitation to join the Safety
+First Club. Also, when the angling had resulted
+in failure, there had been, generally, an
+increase in the unfavorable comment about
+the club by critics who didn’t belong to it.</p>
+
+<p>Orkney coughed a little dubiously. “Ahem,
+ahem! Of course, all that sort of thing is
+plain yapping, but, all the same, I’d like to see
+us getting into this game. If I could do anything
+to help&mdash;say, though, I’m no use when
+it comes to writing. But in digging for facts,
+I’ll be ready to hold up my end. And facts
+are what are going to count. And there’s
+nothing to prevent the crowd pulling together&mdash;the
+prize essay doesn’t have to be one person’s
+work. Why, two or three of the girls
+have teamed up, and make no bones about it.
+The principal told ’em it was allowable, especially
+since the person who is putting up the
+hundred dollars really wants to get data on
+the town’s settlement and early history, and
+regards this plan as merely a way of securing
+assistance he is glad to pay for.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, it’s my notion some of the girls
+will win,” declared Sam. “They’re better
+pluggers&mdash;more persistent&mdash;than the fellows.<span class="pagenum">[120]</span>
+Besides, the composition will count for something&mdash;can’t
+help counting&mdash;and that’s where
+they’ll do better work.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you’re against our going in?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam protested. “No; I’m not. Only I
+don’t think any of us would have a living
+chance. But if any of you fellows want to sail
+in, I’ll wish you all the good luck there is.
+Still, short of finding the lost diary of Dominie
+Pike&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?” Orkney interrupted. He
+was comparatively a newcomer, and still had
+many of the town’s traditions to learn.</p>
+
+<p>“Dominie Pike was the first minister,” Sam
+explained. “He came with the very earliest
+of the settlers&mdash;some people say he himself
+was the very first. He kept a diary, and put
+in it everything of interest that happened to
+himself or his neighbors, and all their dealings
+with the Indians&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Indians?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course! There was quite a powerful
+tribe here. Dominie Pike was great friends
+with them, and there are lots of stories about
+that part of the town’s history&mdash;trouble prevented
+by the Dominie, you know. No doubt<span class="pagenum">[121]</span>
+they’re all in the diary, but nobody knows
+what happened to the diary. Folks have
+found many references to it in old letters,
+showing that people knew about it, and had
+read it, or parts of it, anyway. Then it seemed
+to disappear. The Historical Society has
+hunted for it high and low, but never has got
+a trace of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Orkney whistled softly. “My! But I wish
+we could come across it! It would just fill the
+bill.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would,” said Sam drily, and left Orkney
+to meditate ways and means of accomplishing
+what so far the town had found to be impossible
+in the matter of tracing the lost diary of
+the old minister.</p>
+
+<p>Their talk, however, had given Sam food
+for thought. It would be a fine thing for the
+club to score in the competition. But, also,
+it would be pleasing to find a way to square
+the account with Varley. Sam, casting about,
+hit upon a plan or two, which failed to work
+out satisfactorily. His mother listened willingly
+enough to hints that he would like to
+have a party, but showed an inclination to
+make it a general entertainment for the girls<span class="pagenum">[122]</span>
+and boys of his acquaintance, which by no
+means met his approval. Sam’s notion of the
+proper thing was a small and strictly masculine
+gathering, at which Varley could be the
+guest of honor.</p>
+
+<p>Of Varley, as it happened, he was seeing very
+little. Paul was regularly attending school,
+but he was formally enrolled as a Senior, and
+thus seemed to gravitate naturally into association
+with the boys of the last year. When he
+encountered Sam or any of the other members
+of the Safety First Club, he appeared to be
+quite at ease and untroubled by any thought
+of the breach he had unwittingly made in their
+rules; but Sam noticed&mdash;or thought he noticed&mdash;a
+disposition on Varley’s part not to
+seek his society, even if there was no effort to
+avoid it. He had no doubt that the Shark’s
+frankness had enlightened Varley about the
+club’s ban on uninvited guests; and his respect
+grew for a fellow who could “carry it
+off so well”&mdash;as he phrased it&mdash;a situation
+which Sam himself found most embarrassing.</p>
+
+<p>Poke, meanwhile, was getting a deal of enjoyment
+out of his mysterious secret, which,
+at last, he seemed to have shared with his<span class="pagenum">[123]</span>
+especial crony, Step; for the latter, of a sudden,
+became as excited as Poke himself. The
+pair had conferences and conferences, with
+much chuckling and whispering and rib-nudging.
+And then, one day, both came to
+Sam to make an amazing announcement.</p>
+
+<p>Poke was in funds. Fortune had made
+him affluent. He proposed to bid his friends
+share his prosperity. Also he proposed to
+even the score with Paul Varley.</p>
+
+<p>Sam was practical. Where had the money
+come from?</p>
+
+<p>Poke explained gleefully. An elderly and
+well-to-do aunt had made him a present of
+twenty-five dollars. By certain miracles of
+good behavior he had won parental permission
+to spend the windfall as he pleased.</p>
+
+<p>“Now I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,”
+Poke went on. “I’m going to take the whole
+club and Varley out to the Rainbow Mountain
+House, and give ’em a bang-up good
+dinner. We’ll make it a hike out and back,
+with the feed in between. Great notion, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s see your cash!” said Sam bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>Poke produced a roll of bills with a flourish.
+“There! Count ’em if you want to.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[124]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sam took advantage of the permission.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s twenty-five, all right,” he admitted,
+as he returned the bills.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure it is! And twenty’ll pay for the
+dinners for the crowd. Oh, I’ve found out.
+I’ve been doing a lot of telephoning out to
+the hotel, and everything’s arranged for next
+Saturday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Invited Varley yet?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I’m waiting to hear what you have
+to say.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam took thought. “It&mdash;it’s a good deal
+for you to blow in, Poke.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke waved a lordly hand. “Oh, easy
+come, easy go, Sam. Hang the expense!”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve been talking about this?”</p>
+
+<p>“A lot&mdash;to Step. He thinks it’s a great
+idea.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam was not surprised by this information;
+nor was he greatly impressed. “I was thinking
+of your folks.”</p>
+
+<p>“They don’t mind. That part’s all right&mdash;honest!”</p>
+
+<p>Still Sam hesitated; noting which, Poke
+went on, eagerly:</p>
+
+<p>“Come now! You know how the thing<span class="pagenum">[125]</span>
+is. We ought to do something for Varley
+and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so. Only all of us ought to chip
+in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! He did it alone, and I’m going
+to do it alone. But it’ll count for the
+whole club. And we ought to get square
+with him, hadn’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then let’s do it!” cried Poke triumphantly.
+“I’ll ask Varley to-day. Better,
+hadn’t I?” he concluded, of a sudden, questioning.</p>
+
+<p>There was a brief pause. Then said Sam,
+slowly and half-reluctantly: “Why&mdash;why&mdash;yes,
+I guess so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it’s as good as done!” quoth Poke,
+and departed in search of the proposed guest
+of honor.</p>
+
+<p>The youthful code is usually simple but
+exacting. “Pay your debts” stands close to
+the head of its list of rules. Instinctively
+Sam doubted the success of Poke’s undertaking&mdash;things
+had a way of happening unexpectedly
+to Poke. Still, he saw no sound
+reason for interfering with the plan to restore<span class="pagenum">[126]</span>
+the balance between the Safety First Club and
+Paul Varley. He would have preferred himself
+to be the host, but as that might not be,
+he yielded the place to his plump friend.</p>
+
+<p>Varley accepted the invitation. He would
+be delighted to go to Poke’s dinner, and he
+said so.</p>
+
+<p>The attendance of all the club’s members
+was taken for granted; and all were promptly
+at the meeting-place on Saturday morning.
+The sun was shining, the air was fine and bracing,
+and the snow was in excellent condition.
+The party set out on the tramp in high spirits,
+taking a somewhat roundabout course to the
+hotel, but passing close to the house of the
+injured woodsman. There they halted briefly
+to make inquiry as to his condition, and were
+told that he was convalescing satisfactorily.</p>
+
+<p>They brought noble appetites to the feast,
+and even the doubtful Sam was forced to
+admit to himself that Poke had arranged
+matters very well, indeed. A private dining-room
+was set aside for the youthful visitors;
+the quite ample bill of fare had been lengthened
+with especial attention to their tastes.
+Poke beamingly presided at the head of the<span class="pagenum">[127]</span>
+table, with Varley at his right and Sam at his
+left. Poke, in fact, was having the time of
+his life, and when the others called upon
+him for a speech, he made one willingly
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell you, fellows, I’m awfully glad all of
+you could come,” said he. “Seemed to me
+it would be a bully idea to&mdash;er&mdash;er”&mdash;he
+paused, of a sudden reminded that one may
+not eulogize one’s own hospitality&mdash;“er&mdash;er&mdash;that
+is, we ought to do something to&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;to
+break the monotony. Stupidest part of
+the year, you know. Anything for a little
+variety. Of course, I might have done other
+things, but it struck me the crowd would like
+a square meal&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we needed it!” the Trojan put in in
+a stage whisper.</p>
+
+<p>Poke reddened. “Say, I didn’t mean that,
+and you know it! All of you get plenty to
+eat; so do I. Only we don’t have the chance
+to eat together; and I knew this was a cracking
+good place. So here we are! And I’d
+like to know if anybody has anything to say
+against it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a word!” cried the Trojan.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[128]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Go on, Poke!” Herman Boyd encouraged.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! Give the boy orator his head!”
+grinned Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got ’em going, Poke&mdash;don’t let
+up!” “Hit us again&mdash;we haven’t got any
+friends!” “My, but isn’t he the silver-tongued
+spell-binder!” There was a medley
+of shouts; Poke shook his fist in mock defiance.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t much more to say, and I’ll
+make short work of it. You fellows are all
+right, though you might know a lot more
+than you do. Oh, I’m the same way&mdash;I admit
+it. But I know enough to stop when
+I’m through. So that’s why I’m going to say
+again that I’m glad you’re here, and sit down.”</p>
+
+<p>There was lusty clapping of hands. Then
+Varley rose, his glass in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“I propose,” he said, “the very good health
+of Poke Green. Long may he wave!”</p>
+
+<p>They drank the toast in sparkling spring
+water, and drank it with enthusiasm. Then
+there were other toasts to Varley, to Sam, to
+the rest of the party; all to the general satisfaction
+and the especial delight of Poke. He<span class="pagenum">[129]</span>
+was beaming more broadly than ever when
+they filed out of the dining-room and into
+the big lobby. There was just a bit of a
+swagger in his walk, as he strolled up to the
+desk, and pulled out his pocketbook.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk, catching the spirit of the occasion,
+made a little ceremony of making out
+the account and presenting Poke with the
+receipt. Also he expressed the hope that
+the dinner had been to the satisfaction of the
+guests.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a corker!” quoth Poke, and thrust
+his change into a pocket. Then, perhaps suspecting
+that he had displayed unsophisticated
+warmth, he turned hastily. The tall vase of
+prismatic glass, which had held his admiration
+on his first visit to the hotel, caught his eye.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, isn’t that a peach of a shiner!” he
+exclaimed to Step, who happened to be nearest
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Eh?” Step appeared to be in doubt of
+his meaning.</p>
+
+<p>Poke, impatiently and with the awkwardness
+of embarrassment, under the clerk’s gaze,
+threw out a hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, there&mdash;&mdash;” he began, but broke off<span class="pagenum">[130]</span>
+abruptly. The gesture had been more violent
+than he realized. His hand struck something
+smartly&mdash;and the something was the tall shaft
+of the vase.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew!” he gasped, and made a desperate
+effort to avert the disaster. But he was too
+late.</p>
+
+<p>The vase swayed. Then, seeming to slip
+through his hands, it fell from its standard,
+and striking the floor with a mighty crash
+was splintered into a score of pieces.</p>
+
+<p>Step, with a howl of alarm, sprang back.
+The others came running up to see what had
+happened. Poke, though, stood like one
+rooted to the spot, staring blankly at the
+glittering fragments.</p>
+
+<p>The clerk hurried from behind the desk.
+His expression was serious, but he spoke
+quietly, with no raising of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s too bad. An accident, of course, but
+an unfortunate one.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke found tongue. “I don’t see how I
+hit it. I was just trying to point to it, and
+bang! I was into it, and it was smashing on
+the floor! I never dreamed of&mdash;of&mdash;of making
+such a wreck.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[131]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I presume not,” said the clerk in his
+quiet fashion. Then with a change of tone
+he addressed a bell-boy: “Clear up this mess&mdash;at
+once.”</p>
+
+<p>Instinctively Poke was fumbling in his
+pocket. “The damage&mdash;how much? If
+you’ll tell me, I’ll&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, there is no hurry,” said the clerk.
+“I shall have to refer the whole matter to
+the proprietor, who is away for a few days.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I can’t settle it now?”</p>
+
+<p>The corners of the man’s mouth twitched,
+but his speech was matter-of-fact.</p>
+
+<p>“No; a case like this must be referred to
+the proprietor. I’m sure I don’t know what
+view he may take of it, or of the&mdash;ah&mdash;ah&mdash;the
+question of responsibility. We have your
+name and address, you understand; he can
+communicate with you if he desires to do so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Poke weakly. He was half
+rejoiced by the delay, half frightened by the
+hint of written claim for damages. “Oh!
+Then there’s nothing to be done now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a thing!” said the clerk crisply; and
+retired to his place behind the desk.</p>
+
+<p>Poke turned unhappily to his friends, but<span class="pagenum">[132]</span>
+none of them had comfort to offer in this
+sudden and unfortunate turn in affairs.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I suppose we might as well start for
+home,” he said drearily. “I&mdash;I guess the
+sooner we’re out of here, the better.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[133]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">SAM GETS A REMINDER</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The disastrous sequel to Poke’s dinner party
+was the chief topic of talk among the Safety
+First Club, with Poke himself in a state of
+mind which can be more easily imagined than
+described. The breaking of the big vase was
+due to him. He had had not the slightest intention
+to break it, but this did not alter the
+bitter fact. He was responsible for the fall of
+the vase. Like the honest fellow he was, he
+accepted the responsibility&mdash;and wondered
+much how he was to meet it.</p>
+
+<p>What had been the value of the vase?
+Not a member of the club could enlighten
+him. Varley, approached as one of wider
+knowledge, declined to venture an opinion.</p>
+
+<p>“It may have cost a lot, or it may have
+been very cheap,” he said. “Unless you’re
+an expert, you can’t tell.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the way with a lot of things in<span class="pagenum">[134]</span>
+this world!” groaned Poke, and sought the
+Shark, as an expert in mathematics, at least.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark gave him little comfort. He
+was more than ready to undertake a calculation
+of the possible value of the vase, based
+on the cost of a bit of cut-glass, owned by his
+mother, of the price of which he happened to
+be aware. But though he made most careful
+estimates of the height of the vase, he soon
+came to difficulties.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, Poke!” said he. “I can
+arrive at an approximation of the volume of
+the thing, but how does the price increase in
+comparison with the size? Arithmetical or
+geometrical progression? If it’s arithmetical,
+it’ll be bad enough; but if it’s geometrical&mdash;whew!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke was aghast. “You&mdash;you mean it’d
+mount up to&mdash;to&mdash;hundreds of dollars?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hundreds? Rats! Thousands!” snapped
+the Shark. “Just you wait till I get it in
+black and white&mdash;on estimates, of course. I
+can’t pretend to get exact results when I’ve
+no precise data to work on.”</p>
+
+<p>But Poke didn’t wait. Instead, he fled;
+and seeking out his especial crony, Step,<span class="pagenum">[135]</span>
+confided to him that he believed he was
+doomed to be a bond-slave for life.</p>
+
+<p>“You see, I’ve got to work it off myself,”
+he explained. “When the folks said I could
+have the party, they made it a condition that
+there mustn’t be any rough pranks&mdash;any
+breaking things, you know. And I promised
+there shouldn’t be. And there wasn’t&mdash;everybody
+behaved like a gentleman&mdash;till I went
+smashing into that show-piece. I haven’t
+told ’em at the house&mdash;yet; I’ll never tell
+’em if I can possibly help it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure you won’t,” quoth the sympathetic
+Step. “No fellow likes to ’fess up when the
+joke’s on him.”</p>
+
+<p>“The joke!” roared Poke. “Great Scott,
+but you’ve got a mighty queer notion of
+what’s funny! You’d like to see a house fall
+on a fellow.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come now! I didn’t mean to hurt
+your feelings,” pleaded Step.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t hurt ’em worse than they’re
+already hurt,” groaned Poke, of a sudden
+dreary again.</p>
+
+<p>He went away, so downcast and so unlike
+his normally cheerful self that Step was<span class="pagenum">[136]</span>
+stricken with fear for him, tinged with remorse
+for his own lightsome treatment of the
+subject. And, being thus burdened in soul,
+he had an inspiration. He happened to know
+where some old catalogues of city department
+stores were gathering dust in an attic. These
+volumes, brought to light and consulted,
+offered hope. Step carried them to Poke.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here!” he said. “Maybe ’twon’t be
+so fierce, after all. Here’s a whopping big
+vase&mdash;I guess it’s taller than the one at the
+hotel. And it’s priced at only $3.98. There’s
+a picture of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke eagerly inspected the cut. Then his
+face fell.</p>
+
+<p>“’Tisn’t the same shape,” he objected.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, no&mdash;not exactly the same,” Step
+confessed. “There is a little difference.”</p>
+
+<p>“A little difference! Just about as little as
+there is between your shape and mine!”</p>
+
+<p>It was not an unhappy comparison. Poke
+was short and plump; Step was tall and slender.
+There was a like variance between the
+somewhat jug-like ornament depicted in the
+catalogue and the graceful vase which had stood
+on the desk of the Rainbow Mountain House.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[137]</span></p>
+
+<p>“All right; have it your way if you want
+to,” Step agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Again Poke studied the illustration.
+“What’s more, this one’s made out of different
+stuff. It doesn’t look like glass.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t say it was.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke shut the book with a bang of temper.
+“You didn’t say anything sensible.”</p>
+
+<p>Then Step revolted at this ingratitude.
+“Look here, Poke, that’s carrying your
+grouch too far! Wasn’t I trying to help
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I know you mean well,” Poke
+groaned.</p>
+
+<p>“And wasn’t I doing you a favor? Don’t
+you want to be posted? Here’s a whopping
+big thing you can get for $3.98. That’s
+worth knowing if they try to come any funny
+business on you.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke cheered a trifle. “Say, there’s something
+in that.”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet there is! And when you come
+down to brass tacks, a vase is a vase.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke did not deny the proposition. “Yes;
+that’s so. Still&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“And you know where you’re at.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[138]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But that’s just what I don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you do!” Step said impatiently.
+“You’re getting a line on what vases cost&mdash;some
+vases, that is. And&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;‘Knowledge
+is power,’ you know,” he concluded with
+sudden solemnity.</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose that’s so,” Poke admitted dubiously.
+“Only I don’t see&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The fire of imagination blazed in Step&mdash;somehow
+it kindled readily when these two
+chums were in consultation.</p>
+
+<p>“Crackee! But I’ve got an idea, Poke&mdash;best
+ever! Don’t you wait for the hotel folks
+to do something. Do something yourself, and
+do it first!”</p>
+
+<p>“What can I do?” Poke asked helplessly.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s easy. You owe ’em for a vase.
+Send ’em one.”</p>
+
+<p>“What! One of the three-ninety-eight
+kind?”</p>
+
+<p>“How much money have you got?” Step
+demanded bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, ten dollars or so&mdash;that is, by scraping
+everything together I can raise that much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then make it a ten-dollar one&mdash;best you
+can find for the money. Ship it to ’em with<span class="pagenum">[139]</span>
+a nice note&mdash;you know the sort: you greatly
+regret the accident and you’re making haste
+to replace the property destroyed. They’ll
+read it, and they’ll see the new vase, and
+they’ll say, ‘Well, there’s a boy who means
+to do the right thing; we can’t be too hard on
+him. Guess we’d better call it quits.’ And
+there you are! What more could you ask?”</p>
+
+<p>Poke was blinking like one dazzled by the
+prospect. “I&mdash;I&mdash;say, wonder if the thing
+would work?”</p>
+
+<p>“How can you tell till you try?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so. Only&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Hang it, ‘only’ never got anybody anywhere!”
+Step expostulated.</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe not.”</p>
+
+<p>“It surely never did,” Step insisted.</p>
+
+<p>Poke evidently was half-persuaded. “It’s
+a great scheme&mdash;I’ll say that for it. So I
+guess I&mdash;I’ll&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll do it right off?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I guess I’ll ask Sam’s advice.”</p>
+
+<p>Step’s face fell. “Oh, if you haven’t any
+mind of your own&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve mind enough to know Sam’s got
+more hard sense,” said Poke firmly. And to<span class="pagenum">[140]</span>
+Sam he went, forthwith, laying before him
+Step’s plan and admitting his own liking for
+it.</p>
+
+<p>Sam listened patiently, but shook his head
+when the tale was told.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be a case of the
+Safety First rule,” he said. “Your selection,
+Poke, might not please the hotel people. And,
+of course, we’re all at sea about the value. No;
+better wait till you hear from them.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the suspense&mdash;it’s awful!”</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t kill you. Besides, very likely&mdash;that
+is, there’s a chance&mdash;nothing’ll happen.
+Varley seems to think it may work out that
+way, and the Rainbow Mountain House will
+just charge the item to profit and loss, or
+breakage, or whatever they choose to call it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’d be too good luck to come true,”
+objected Poke, but he went away more or
+less comforted by the suggestion, nevertheless.
+Certainly, the hotel management was in no
+haste to send its bill. Step maliciously hinted
+that the delay meant merely a heavier charge
+in the end, but Poke’s spirits began to revive
+as day followed day, and there was no word
+from Rainbow Mountain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[141]</span></p>
+
+<p>His cheerfulness increased in spite of adverse
+weather conditions. With the lengthening
+days and the sun higher in the heavens,
+the snow should have been shrinking seasonably,
+but the sunny days were few, and
+between them came other days, in which the
+white flakes fell heavily. In the town great
+banks showed on the north side of buildings,
+while the mounds along the sidewalks grew
+grimy and icy with alternate melting and
+replenishing. From the country roundabout
+came stories of extraordinary depth of snow
+in the woods and in sheltered hollows. Old
+residents were shaking their heads and recalling
+tales of spring floods. A heavy rain
+and a sharp rise in temperature would mean
+streams over their banks and perhaps a deal of
+damage by floods swelled by the melting snow.</p>
+
+<p>The boys were not worrying about such
+possibilities. They were eager for the coming
+of warmer weather.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve had enough of winter this trip,”
+the Trojan declared, and the others approved
+the sentiment. Even the Shark fell into line,
+although he insisted that this winter was
+doubtless very like other winters, and began<span class="pagenum">[142]</span>
+to collect statistics to prove his contention.
+Presently he had some neat tabulations, with
+averages of snowfall and temperature carried
+out to four places of decimals, and was devoting
+a fair share of his leisure to efforts to
+secure an audience while he pointed out a
+number of popular errors the figures revealed.</p>
+
+<p>So the days went by, and the weeks, tranquilly
+enough for the club. Sam was studying
+hard. Once or twice he “did” a lesson
+with Varley, being glad of the chance, indeed,
+to keep in touch with the older boy.</p>
+
+<p>Varley made no reference to his unintentional
+breach of the rules of the Safety First
+Club, nor did he give a hint that the Shark
+had enlightened him about his blunder. Sam
+appreciated his reticence. Apology would
+have been awkward for both of them. Varley
+was taking care to keep away from the club,
+and ignoring the earlier incident seemed to
+be the easiest and best way to deal with the
+situation.</p>
+
+<p>Without coming to intimacy, Sam and Paul
+got on very well together. Neither sought
+the other out frequently, but, as has been said,
+they studied in company now and then, and<span class="pagenum">[143]</span>
+often strolled along together, when they met
+on the street. So it came about that Varley
+was a witness of Sam’s next meeting with the
+grateful Mrs. Grant, and played his part in
+bringing about the events which followed that
+encounter.</p>
+
+<p>A sleigh turning from the beaten track and
+pulling up beside the deeply buried curb; a
+beckoning hand; a cheerful voice calling
+briskly&mdash;these were the circumstances under
+which Sam became aware that speech with
+him was desired, and recognized Mrs. Grant.
+Touching his cap, he stepped as near the
+sleigh as the banks of snow permitted. Much
+of the old chagrin because of the lady’s
+effusive and public thanks for his services had
+worn away; and since the reconciliation with
+his mates of the club there had been times
+when he regretted that he had not been more
+responsive.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant, plainly, had been on a shopping
+tour; for the sleigh was piled high with packages.
+She beamed upon Sam, and stretching
+out a gloved hand, shook his very heartily.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, this is what I call luck!” she exclaimed.
+“I was just wondering where I<span class="pagenum">[144]</span>
+could find you, and then, quick as a wink,
+there you are! My, but it’s funny how
+things happen sometimes!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ma’am,” said Sam. “And&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;how
+do you do?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant chuckled. “Well, I guess I’m
+bearing up amazing well, all things considered.
+And I don’t see as you’re getting puny or
+peaked yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, ma’am.”</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes twinkled. “Te he! Didn’t know
+but you were pining for that mince pie I
+promised you.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam felt his cheeks burn. “I&mdash;I&mdash;oh, I
+didn’t mind,” he said confusedly.</p>
+
+<p>“But I did,” said Mrs. Grant crisply.
+“Somehow I like to keep my promises, and I
+certainly did promise you that pie. When
+are you coming to get it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll be ready for you any time. Only the
+sooner, the better.”</p>
+
+<p>“It&mdash;it’s very kind of you.” Sam said it
+courteously, if a trifle brokenly. At the moment
+his chief thought was to avoid betrayal
+of his feeling in the matter of all mince pies,<span class="pagenum">[145]</span>
+a feeling which, of a sudden, had grown to
+loathing. But he had had his lesson of the
+unwisdom of permitting a pie to start a
+quarrel.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll look for you&mdash;come now, let’s
+see!” Mrs. Grant wrinkled her forehead
+thoughtfully. “To-day’s Tuesday&mdash;um&mdash;um!
+And to-morrow I’ve got to go over to the East
+Village. Then Thursday’s sewing circle day.
+But Friday&mdash;after your school’s out? You
+can manage to come over to the farm easy
+enough&mdash;why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course you can!” cried Mrs.
+Grant energetically. “But I say!” Her
+glance went to Varley, who had remained
+modestly in the background. “Sakes alive,
+but there’s the other boy! The one that tried
+and didn’t; but he meant just exactly as well
+as if he’d known how&mdash;you know what I’m
+talking about, and that’s the time this foolish
+horse bolted. Bring him with you, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll be very glad to come,” said Varley
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant was eyeing him shrewdly.
+“Shouldn’t wonder if we could show him<span class="pagenum">[146]</span>
+some things,” said she. “He looks sort of
+citified, and we’re country&mdash;real country&mdash;out
+to Sugar Valley. But that reminds me&mdash;it’s
+’most sugaring time now. ’Twill be, soon’s
+we get a spell of warm weather to start the
+sap running; and it’s my notion when winter
+breaks, it’ll break quick. Come now! Never
+seen ’em sugar-off, has he?”</p>
+
+<p>Varley saved Sam the trouble of making
+answer. “Indeed I haven’t, but I’d like to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Grant, addressing him
+directly, “I don’t know as we can show you
+the sap running, and the kettles boiling by
+Friday, but we can show you all the works.
+We’ve got quite a lot of bush and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I beg your pardon! Bush?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant laughed. “That’s just a name
+for it&mdash;our name. You’d call it a grove, I
+guess. And there’s an old house where we
+keep the kettles&mdash;why, it’s quite an outfit,
+when you see it all. And I reckon you’ll find
+it mighty entertaining.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m sure I shall.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then that settles it&mdash;Friday it is!” she
+said with decision, and turned again to Sam.
+“I tell you what! We’ll make a regular<span class="pagenum">[147]</span>
+party. Suppose you bring along half a dozen
+of your chums&mdash;more, if you want to. Goodness
+knows, our old house is big enough to
+take you all in! And let’s see! You can
+come out right after school, and we’ll have
+dinner&mdash;it’ll be waiting for you. And I’ll get
+that mince pie off my conscience. Then Mr.
+Grant can take you down to the island&mdash;it
+isn’t an island, really, but that’s what we call
+it&mdash;and let you see the apparatus for making
+maple syrup and sugar.” She turned swiftly
+back to Varley. “You said it’d be all new to
+you, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Every bit of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I can count on you, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s I that’ll do the counting! I wouldn’t
+miss the trip for worlds!” cried Varley enthusiastically.</p>
+
+<p>His evident delight in the plan swept away
+any lingering doubts Sam may have felt. It
+wouldn’t be fair to spoil Varley’s pleasure because
+of his own rather vague reluctance.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you may count on us, Mrs. Grant,”
+he said. “And as for more fellows&mdash;well, I
+know a crowd that’ll like to come, too. We’ll
+be there&mdash;on time&mdash;Friday.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[148]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE BLOW DESCENDS</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Sam had taken for granted that there would
+be no parental objections to the expedition,
+and in this he found himself a true prophet.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Parker not only agreed to the plan, but
+also showed approval of it.</p>
+
+<p>“A little outing will be good for you, Sam,”
+said he. “You’ve been attending pretty
+strictly to business lately, and it’s time for a
+break in the routine. By the way, your good
+conduct marks ought to be mounting up
+handsomely.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam laughed. “Well, sir, I haven’t seemed
+to have many chances to get into trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“Haven’t looked for them very anxiously,
+have you?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam’s eye met his father’s, and a trace of
+red showed in the boy’s cheek.</p>
+
+<p>“Safety first, sir!” he said. “You know<span class="pagenum">[149]</span>
+I’ve had that lesson taught me mighty thoroughly.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Parker studied his son closely for a
+moment.</p>
+
+<p>“So? Well, I’m glad to hear the instruction
+hasn’t been wasted.... But, tell
+me! Find life robbed of a little of its spice,
+eh?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam paused for thought before he answered;
+the question was not one he could dispose of
+lightly, especially when it had been put by
+his father. There was a very good understanding
+between father and son, but it had
+not been arrived at without some grievous experiences
+for the youth. On that account he
+prized it the more, and desired to maintain it.</p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes it does seem as if a fellow
+missed some fun, sir. I don’t know, though&mdash;mostly,
+afterward, I can figure out that
+everybody is better off because the thing
+wasn’t done&mdash;the thing that seemed to promise
+sport, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“But there are other things that promise
+sport, and supply it, and harm nobody, aren’t
+there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, yes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[150]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And you’re beginning to discriminate?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam wriggled; he was by no means over-impressed
+with his own sagacity.</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, I try to discriminate&mdash;that’s
+the very secret of our Safety First idea, isn’t
+it? Of course, I make bulls&mdash;mistakes, I
+mean&mdash;a lot of them.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then what?”</p>
+
+<p>“I try not to repeat them,” said Sam
+simply. “I don’t know any better rule.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is none,” said his father decidedly.
+“And, on the whole, you’ll find that if you
+follow the rule, it still leaves plenty of good,
+clean fun in life as well as a reasonable share
+of adventure. Not that I imagine you’ll run
+across much of the latter in Sugar Valley,
+though!”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t very likely,” said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Lon can drive you over,” said his
+father. “The big sleigh will take you all in.
+I’ll guarantee it, though I won’t do as much
+for the sleighing. The snow has lasted unusually
+long, but the season is now so late
+that if it once begins to go, it will go very
+fast.”</p>
+
+<p>“But there’s such a lot of it,” Sam objected.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[151]</span></p>
+
+<p>“There is an uncommon amount&mdash;that’s
+true. I’ve seen late spring thaws, though,
+when the greater the depth of snow, the
+faster it seemed to vanish. Still, with the
+amount we now have, it would need fast work
+to clear the ground before Friday.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my notion, too, sir,” said Sam,
+half regretfully. The truth was, he was in
+two minds about the expedition. Considering
+only his own preferences, he might have
+chosen to stay at home; but there was Varley
+to be taken into account, and Varley undoubtedly
+was very desirous of seeing Sugar
+Valley. The boys of the club, too, would like
+to go. All of them said so, at once and
+emphatically. So Sam held conference with
+Lon Gates, who readily promised to have the
+big sleigh ready; though he was far from an
+optimist when the subject of the weather was
+broached.</p>
+
+<p>“Take it this time o’ year, Sam,” he explained,
+“and guessin’ on that’s like buyin’ a
+pig in a poke, only more so. You see, everything’s
+betwixt and between, same’s butter
+that ain’t quite made up its mind whether to
+come or not. And all the signs are mixed<span class="pagenum">[152]</span>
+and confusin’. Why, jest t’other day I heard
+two of the oldest inhabitants squabblin’ over
+whether the groundhog really see his shadow
+Candlemas day; and ’sfar’s I can find out the
+most reliable goose-bones in town are actin’
+every which way except alike. But if you
+insist on havin’ my forecast, personal-like,
+I’m votin’ for a change in weather. I’ve got
+a rheumaticky spot or two that’s been tunin’
+up lately; and there was a mighty funny
+lookin’ sunset t’other night. Still, nobody
+can tell. And if you’ll be ready for me Friday,
+I’ll be ready for you.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam, thus advised, tried to study the
+weather signs for himself. Thursday dawned
+mild and calm, with a thin haze in the air
+and a marked rise in temperature. The eaves
+were dripping briskly when he started for
+school, and when he came home for dinner,
+the snow layer seemed to have shrunk amazingly.
+Where foot travel was greatest the
+sidewalks showed black and bare; puddles
+formed in low places; the compacted and
+leveled track of the sleighs grew dingier than
+ever. Throughout the afternoon the same
+conditions held, until with the coming of<span class="pagenum">[153]</span>
+darkness the temperature dropped a trifle,
+and a thin coating of ice formed on the little
+ponds of snow-water.</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! What did I tell you? Weather
+breeder!” was Lon’s oracular speech, when
+Sam sought his opinion of the probabilities
+for the morrow. But even Lon declined to
+commit <a id="Ref_153" href="#BRef_153">himself</a> on the sort of weather which
+might be expected. So Sam went to bed little
+the wiser, and woke to find another day seemingly
+much like that which had gone before,
+still, warm and hazy, with the eaves dripping
+more merrily than ever, the puddles bigger
+and deeper, and the streets coated with a
+slush, peculiarly damp and chilling in its
+effect on shoe-leather.</p>
+
+<p>Sam splashed to school, to find that news
+of his party had reached the principal, and
+had won an unexpected favor&mdash;excuses for all
+hands from attendance for the last period of
+the day. The boon, it appeared, had been
+secured by the Shark, who stood high in the
+esteem of the head of the school, himself a
+member of the mathematically inclined
+brotherhood. It was thus possible to make
+an earlier start than had been proposed for<span class="pagenum">[154]</span>
+Sugar Valley. Lon, called up by telephone,
+was agreeable to the change.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure I’ll be glad to get away,” he declared.
+“Quicker I go, less I’ll be wonderin’
+if I ain’t a howlin’ idiot not to start on wheels
+instead o’ runners.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you think&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Lon cut short the inquiry over the wire.
+“I think it’s the breakin’ up of a hard
+winter, son. And that’s all I’m capable o’
+thinkin’ at once. Now, you’d better get busy&mdash;I’ve
+got to.”</p>
+
+<p>Excused a little before noon, the boys hurried
+home for final preparations for their outing.
+Sam found Lon ready for him. He
+climbed into the sleigh, and off they went,
+stopping first to pick up Varley, and then
+the Shark. Next they added Tom Orkney,
+Herman Boyd and the Trojan to the party,
+which now lacked only Poke and Step.</p>
+
+<p>“Try Step’s house first,” Sam suggested.</p>
+
+<p>Lon nodded, and chirruped to his horses,
+which broke into a brisk trot, with much
+splashing of water from the puddles along
+the way. The sleighing certainly was going
+fast, but so great had been the accumulation<span class="pagenum">[155]</span>
+of snow that it promised to last out the day,
+at least.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Lon, why didn’t you bring a boat?”
+the Trojan queried, as something very like a
+dash of spray shot over the side of the sleigh.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Ark’d been nearer the bill, seein’
+the kind o’ load I’m freightin’,” Lon responded
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess we’ll find the brooks high,” Herman
+Boyd put in.</p>
+
+<p>“Bankful and brimmin’ over,” quoth Lon.
+“Maybe you fellows will have to get out and
+wade before we get back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’ll risk it,” cried Herman cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p>They turned a corner, and drew up before
+the Jones house. Nobody was in sight about
+the premises.</p>
+
+<p>Sam raised a lusty hail. “Oh, you Step!
+Hi there! Hurry up!”</p>
+
+<p>There was no response. Sam called again,
+still more loudly. The Trojan had the knack
+of putting his knuckles to his mouth and
+emitting a peculiarly shrill and penetrating
+whistle. He blew it now, quite without result.
+Then the crowd shouted in chorus.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[156]</span></p>
+
+<p>The kitchen door opened. A woman looked
+out. She waved a hand toward the club-house,
+which, as has been explained, stood in a corner
+of the yard.</p>
+
+<p>“What the mischief&mdash;&mdash;” Sam began, but
+cut short his speech, and sprang to the ground.
+Orkney followed him. One or two of the
+others were about to imitate the example, but
+Sam waved them back.</p>
+
+<p>“No; two of us are enough,” he said. “I
+can’t guess what’s happened, but something
+has. Orkney and I’ll find out. Come along,
+Tom!”</p>
+
+<p>They hurried up the path to the club-house.
+The door was ajar. Sam, by this time puzzled
+and a bit alarmed, pushed it open, and
+looked in, Orkney peering over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>Both Step and Poke were in the room.
+They were facing each other, though neither
+appeared to be looking at the other. Poke
+was slumped on a lounge in an attitude of
+utter dejection, but Step might have posed for
+a picture of absolute woe.</p>
+
+<p>At that moment even a stranger would
+have understood how Clarence Jones came by
+his nickname; for beyond denial he strongly<span class="pagenum">[157]</span>
+suggested a step-ladder, and a step-ladder
+folded hastily. As he had picked out the
+lowest chair in the room, his knees seemed
+to rise to a level with his ears, while his long
+arms dangled till his hands rested limply on
+the floor. His head sagged upon his breast.
+His lips were moving, and from them came
+mournful sounds.</p>
+
+<p>“Brace up, Poke!... Oh, brace up,
+I say!... Pull yourself together!...
+It’s certainly awful, but br-brace up, I tell
+you!”</p>
+
+<p>Never was there more doleful encouragement;
+but it served, at least, to give Sam
+some clew to the mystery. It was Poke
+who was in trouble. Convinced of this, at
+least, he stepped into the room, and laid a
+hand on Poke’s shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what’s the row?” he demanded.
+“Must be a big one to keep you two from
+hearing the racket we raised outside.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke slowly raised his head. He stared at
+Sam, vaguely, blankly. It was Step who spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“You&mdash;you brace up, Poke! And you&mdash;you
+go away, Sam!... But don’t you
+let it knock you out, Poke! Be a man!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[158]</span></p>
+
+<p>Sam turned to him. “If you’re going to
+do the talking, talk sense!” he said sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Step waved his long arms tragically.</p>
+
+<p>“Sam, the worst has happened! Poke’s
+got a letter!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what of it?” Sam asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“What of it! Why, when I came along
+just now he had it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course he’d have it, if he’d got it.
+Don’t be an idiot!”</p>
+
+<p>Step’s arms dropped rather more tragically
+than they had been raised.</p>
+
+<p>“It&mdash;it’s spoiled everything for him. And
+I don’t wonder. But I was trying to cheer
+him up when you came blundering in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Queer cheering!” growled Sam. “And
+much good you were doing him! Now cut
+this foolishness and come along, both of you.
+The crowd’s waiting outside with Lon, and
+it’s time we were starting.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke broke his silence at that. “Oh, I
+can’t go!” he groaned. “I&mdash;I’d have no
+heart for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks! It’ll do you all the more good.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing can do him good,” croaked Step;
+then added, rather contradictorily, if with the<span class="pagenum">[159]</span>
+best of intention: “Brace up, Poke! Pull
+yourself together! Nev&mdash;never say die!”</p>
+
+<p>Sam glanced from one to the other. Step
+and Poke were close chums; the sorrows of
+one were generally shared by the other. He
+was satisfied that the present trouble was
+really serious, though, as it happened, it did
+not occur to him to hit upon a clew to the
+mystery by recalling Poke’s mishap with the
+big vase. To tell the truth, that incident had
+rather slipped his mind with the passage of
+time. Now, though, studying Poke, he observed
+a crumpled sheet of paper clutched in
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Sam bent down. By the exertion of some
+force he took possession of the paper, Poke
+resisting feebly. Smoothing the sheet, he ran
+his eye down the typewritten page. And, as
+he read, he whistled shrilly.</p>
+
+<p>The letter was from the Rainbow Mountain
+House. It was signed by the proprietor himself.
+Its tone was formal and businesslike.</p>
+
+<p>The writer explained the delay by the time
+which had been found necessary to learn the
+cost of replacing the vase. This point had
+now been established.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[160]</span></p>
+
+<p>“‘We find that a duplicate can be obtained,
+and invite your early attention to the matter,’”
+Sam read aloud. “‘The expense will
+be $175.’”</p>
+
+<p>Orkney echoed Sam’s whistle. Poke groaned
+weakly. Step tore his hair.</p>
+
+<p>“One hundred and seventy-five dollars!”
+Sam said very slowly. “‘We invite your
+early attention to the matter!’ Wow, but
+that&mdash;that’s a sockdologer!”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t pay it!” cried Orkney. “It’s
+too much. And if the thing was worth so
+much, it ought to have been kept where it
+would be safe.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s true,” Sam agreed.</p>
+
+<p>Poke shook his head sadly. “I’ve got to
+pay&mdash;I said I would.”</p>
+
+<p>“But <a id="BRef_160" href="#Ref_160">you can’t raise the money</a>. The whole
+club couldn’t raise it.”</p>
+
+<div id="Ref_160" class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i165.jpg" alt="" />
+<div class="caption"><p class="center">“<a href="#BRef_160">YOU CAN’T RAISE THE MONEY</a>”</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>“It isn’t the club’s job&mdash;it’s mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense. All of us were at the dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>“But all of you didn’t smash the vase. I
+did that myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he hates to let his folks know,” Step
+explained in a stage whisper. “You see,
+things have been&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;they’ve been kind<span class="pagenum">[161]</span>
+of piling up on him lately, and his folks&mdash;well,
+they’re getting prejudiced.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” said Sam soberly. Then he paused,
+and took thought. “Look here, Poke!” he
+went on. “You, too, Step! I suppose that
+letter came to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he found it when he came home from
+school,” Step declared.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it doesn’t have to be answered to-day.
+You fellows have got to come along
+with the rest of us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I couldn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, we can’t!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke and Step both cried out in protest.
+Sam’s face grew determined.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll guess again about that! This is a
+thing we’re all in, and the trip will give us
+a chance to talk it over. And getting out
+will do both of you a lot of good.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, Sam, there’d be no fun for us,” Step
+argued. “We’d just be wet blankets on the
+crowd and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Now and then a leader has to assert his
+leadership. Sam had not been head of the
+Safety First Club without learning some of
+the secrets of mastery. He shot a meaning<span class="pagenum">[162]</span>
+glance at Tom Orkney, who understood, and
+nodded approval.</p>
+
+<p>“Tend to Step, Tom,” Sam said curtly.
+Then he himself caught Poke’s collar, dragged
+that youth to his feet, and propelled him
+toward the door. Close behind him came
+Orkney, hauling along the struggling Step
+and paying no attention to his vociferous
+objections. And so down the path moved the
+little procession, to the edification and amazement
+of Lon and Varley, and the other members
+of the club, thus recruited to its full
+strength for the expedition to Sugar Valley.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[163]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE GREAT MINCE PIE OF SUGAR VALLEY</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Being a youth in full possession of his faculties
+and powers of observation, Paul Varley
+understood perfectly that there was something
+curious in the fashion in which Step and Poke
+were loaded into the big sleigh; but he was
+also shrewd enough to perceive that there was
+no intention to let him into the secret. The
+late comers had been hailed impatiently or
+derisively, but Varley noted that none of the
+questions as to the cause of their delay was
+pressed. A nudge from Sam or Orkney, or a
+sharp glance, or a muttered word seemed to
+check inquisitiveness immediately. Paul saw,
+and heeded, and guessed the truth, in part, at
+least. Whatever might be amiss, the other
+boys regarded it as something not to be revealed
+outside the circle of the club. Satisfied
+of this, he took care to help them along by
+making talk.</p>
+
+<p>Varley had no difficulty in finding topics.<span class="pagenum">[164]</span>
+The weather, the clouds, the rapidly melting
+snow, the swollen streams they crossed&mdash;about
+all these things he put many questions. The
+boys, in turn, appealed to Lon. What did he
+think of the prospects, anyway?</p>
+
+<p>Lon squinted at the gray sky, and then at
+the sloppy road.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, ’less something breaks, we’re goin’
+to get there; and if harness and runners hold
+out, we’re goin’ to get home again,” he declared.
+“Dunno’s I’d call it exactly a pleasure
+trip, but I guess we’ll pull through somehow,
+as the molasses candy said to the sugar
+bowl. Maybe it’ll be sleighin’, and then again
+maybe it’ll be draggin’ through mud; but
+we’ve got a good, husky team o’ hosses, and if
+none of the bridges takes a notion to go floatin’
+down stream, we’ll manage. And further deponent
+sayeth not.”</p>
+
+<p>“But is it going to rain?” Sam persisted.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, wind’s in the east. And if it stays
+there long enough, squirrels and pickerel will
+be classin’ alike in p’int o’ dampness.”</p>
+
+<p>“But is it going to stay there?”</p>
+
+<p>Lon clucked to his horses; then he glanced
+at the sky again.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[165]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Huh! I reckon so&mdash;sooner or later there’ll
+be rain. How soon and how much? Huh!
+Bein’ able to answer jest sech questions is how
+old Noah went and got his reputation. And
+he didn’t leave me his recipe for guessin’ right.
+So I ain’t committin’ myself, sonny.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley laughed with the others; then gave
+himself to a study of the weather conditions.
+It was not a cheering prospect that met his
+eye. All the winter brilliancy of the landscape
+had faded; the great blanket of snow
+covering the earth was now a very wet blanket
+in fact and in appearance; the leafless trees
+towered black and somber. Streams ran brim-full.
+Where there were rapids, they showed
+clear of ice, and along the smoother stretches,
+where the break-up had not yet come, the
+freshets poured along above the frozen layer
+as well as below it.</p>
+
+<p>Varley began to appreciate what the “breaking
+up of a hard winter” meant. He wondered,
+indeed, that Sam and Lon should have
+undertaken a trip on such a day, and then,
+correctly enough, inferred that they were keeping
+the engagement to visit Sugar Valley, because
+there was no certainty that delay would<span class="pagenum">[166]</span>
+bring better conditions. In spite of the slush
+and the puddles, the big sleigh was making
+very good time. Satisfied that Lon knew his
+business, Paul quietly studied his companions.
+Poke and Step were silent and subdued, but
+the others were chatting briskly enough. He
+suspected a bit of method in this, and jumped
+to a conclusion that was not far from the mark.
+Whatever was amiss with Step and Poke, the
+club was treating it as a secret, not to be discussed
+before even so sympathetic an outsider
+as he was himself. To tell the truth, Paul
+admired the new evidence of the strength of
+the bond which held this group of chums.
+As it happened, he had many friends but few
+intimates; and sometimes he had longed for
+just such close association as the Safety First
+Club provided.</p>
+
+<p>For a time the road crossed ground with
+which Varley had some slight acquaintance,
+but then Lon turned sharply to the left and
+toward the narrow cleft in the hills which
+Sam once had pointed out to Paul as the entrance
+to Sugar Valley. On close inspection the
+pass was narrower even than it had appeared
+to be from a distance. On both sides the<span class="pagenum">[167]</span>
+rocky banks rose so steeply as to suggest cliffs,
+while at their base flowed the Sugar River, a
+considerable stream, at least in spring time.
+It was spanned by two bridges, one a gaunt
+steel structure carrying railroad tracks, the
+other a covered highway bridge, of the old-fashioned
+wooden construction. Both these
+bridges were close to the mouth of the glen,
+and their piers seemed half to fill the space
+between the banks of the river. The water
+was swirling merrily about the masonry,
+against which from time to time little floes of
+ice dashed with a fine crash; a ragged fringe
+of fragments lined the banks; the air was full
+of spray of a peculiarly chilly and penetrating
+quality. The boys dug their chins into the
+collars of their overcoats as the sleigh dragged
+across the bridge.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! Talk about your cold storage
+plants!” cried the Trojan&mdash;and that was what
+all of them thought.</p>
+
+<p>Then a twist in the road showed them that
+the valley broadened widely, with ranges of
+low hills on either hand. Near the river they
+saw a series of natural terraces, which a fanciful
+eye might have regarded as suggesting<span class="pagenum">[168]</span>
+shallow benches of a great amphitheatre. The
+hills were wooded, and so was part of the
+lower ground, with dense swamp growth here
+and there. The road hugged the base of the
+hills to the left. Evidently it was much
+traveled, though there were few houses in
+sight. Lon offered explanation of this.</p>
+
+<p>“Big farms along here, mostly. Been
+owned by the same families pretty nigh ever
+since Adam and Eve came to the jumpin’ off
+place. Don’t quite believe that, eh? Well,
+then, I’ll compromise, and make it since the
+white folks came into this deestrict. But
+above here a piece there’s quite a settlement.
+The Grants, though, belong down here in the
+old settler class. Old Nahum Grant, he was
+one of the fust white men to&mdash;&mdash; But,
+hullo! There’s the house now!”</p>
+
+<p>The boys looked in the direction in which
+his whip pointed. They saw a comfortable
+farmhouse, big and roomy, and flanked by
+huge barns. Then they were turning in at
+the gate, and pulling up before the house,
+and the door was opening, and Mrs. Grant,
+more beaming than ever, was bustling out to
+greet them.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[169]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My soul and body! but it does me good to
+see you all!” she exclaimed. “Take a mopey,
+draggly day like this, and I didn’t know
+whether you’d sorter back out about coming
+way out here. But you didn’t&mdash;and there’s
+quite a lot of you. My, my, but I’m tickled!
+There haven’t been so many young folks at
+the old place since I don’t know when!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ma’am, we’re all here,” Lon made
+answer. “That is, unless three-four fell out
+of the sleigh a mile or two back. With a
+load like this a feller really ought to stop
+and take account of stock ’bout once in so
+often.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bless me, if ’tain’t Lon Gates!” cried Mrs.
+Grant delightedly. “I vow, but it’s a sight
+for sore eyes!”</p>
+
+<p>“Same to you, ma’am, and three or four
+times over!” Lon responded gallantly. Then
+he surrendered the reins to a farm-hand, who
+came from the barn, and stepped to the porch,
+where Mrs. Grant was shaking hands with
+the boys, duly presented in turn by Sam.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grant came out of the house to join in
+the welcome to the visitors. He was a thin,
+elderly man, with a wisp of gray whisker, a<span class="pagenum">[170]</span>
+quiet manner, and an eye which had a humorous
+twinkle. Then he and his wife shepherded
+the party indoors.</p>
+
+<p>Paul Varley glanced about him curiously.
+The low ceilings, the home-made rugs on the
+floor, the kerosene lamps, the many rocking
+chairs, the big horsehair covered lounge&mdash;these
+things quite matched his expectations,
+but there were other things which jarred
+them. The piano in a corner of the great living-room
+was a handsome instrument; the
+gilded coils of a very modern steam radiator
+suggested that the wide fireplace now served
+ornamental rather than useful purposes.
+There were thriving plants at the windows,
+and on the center table lay a number of
+magazines and illustrated weekly papers.
+Against one wall stood a tall clock, which
+drew Paul like a magnet. His father was
+somewhat of a collector, and the son had
+picked up some bits of information about
+ancient timepieces. This one, unless he were
+much mistaken, was very valuable.</p>
+
+<p>“My great-grandfather made that,” Mr.
+Grant explained. “That is, he had it
+made.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[171]</span></p>
+
+<p>“To order?” Paul asked.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grant chuckled softly. “It was very
+much that way. A friend of his, who went
+to England, brought back the works at his request.
+Then a traveling cabinet maker and
+jack-of-all-trades put the case together, according
+to his ideas. Oh, yes, the journeyman
+and journeying mechanic was an institution
+of those days; he’d make you a chest of
+drawers, or a table, or a clock case, or anything
+else. So great-grandfather picked his
+trees, and cut his lumber, and sawed his
+boards, and had the wood thoroughly seasoned
+when the jack-of-all-trades came around
+to build just such a clock as he wanted.”</p>
+
+<p>Paul nodded. “It seems to have been
+mighty good work, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“That was a way they had,” said Mr.
+Grant. “They didn’t have so many things
+then that they could afford to put up with
+slipshod work.” Then he turned to the
+Shark, who had marched up to a framed
+map, hanging near the clock, and was peering
+at it through his spectacles.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s an odd heirloom, young man.
+Know what it is?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[172]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Of course,” said the Shark crisply. “Relief
+map&mdash;I’ve seen the big one of the whole
+state in the capitol.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right! But this just shows Sugar Valley.”</p>
+
+<p>“So I see,” quoth the Shark quite as crisply
+as before, and continued his study. The map
+was like a carving, depressions being represented
+by gouges in the wood of which it was
+made, and tiny ridges showing the terraces
+before one came to the greater elevation of the
+bordering hills. The course of the river and
+its tributary brooks could be very clearly followed.
+The Shark ran a finger along one of
+the curving levels, an action which caught the
+attention of Mrs. Grant. Instantly she was
+beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, did you find any?” she demanded;
+her tone was hardly tart, but it was tinged
+with suspicion.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course I did,” said the Shark. “I
+knew it’d have to be there.”</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon Mrs. Grant promptly caught his
+hand and peered quite as closely at the tip of
+the exploring finger as the Shark had peered
+at the map.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[173]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! There isn’t a particle!” she
+cried indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“There is,” said the Shark bluntly. “Feeling
+is often more accurate than sight, and I
+felt it distinctly.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant gasped. “Goodness gracious,
+boy! Your mother must be one of those
+miracle housekeepers to bring you up to
+notice such things!”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh?” The Shark, in turn, was bewildered,
+but luckily bethought him of his manners.
+“Excuse me, Mrs. Grant, but&mdash;but we
+can’t be talking about the same thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m talking about dust!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” There was relief in the Shark’s tone:
+also there was a little impatience. “Dust
+nothing! What do I care&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;I mean
+I was pretty sure there was a minor water-shed
+right there, but I had to feel to make
+certain. The light, you know, is not very
+strong; hence the chance of error of vision is
+increased, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant’s laugh cut him short. It, too,
+betrayed relief.</p>
+
+<p>“Ha, ha, ha! And I thought, if there’d
+been any error of vision, it must ’a’ been mine,<span class="pagenum">[174]</span>
+when I dusted yesterday! And I don’t make
+my brags about some things, but if anybody
+can find dirt&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There she checked herself, and laughed
+again. “Mercy me, boys, hear me run on!
+But I’m like everybody else; I’ve got my
+prejudices, and if you get me started&mdash;&mdash; There,
+there! I’m starting, but I’m starting
+myself. And what you’re really thinking
+about, I’ll warrant, is dinner, for you’ll be
+hungry as bears&mdash;or boys&mdash;after your ride. I
+never could see much difference&mdash;between the
+bears and the boys. Not that I knew any
+bears real well, but I did get acquainted with
+a lot of boys, and they’d act sometimes a good
+deal the way folks say bears’ll take on, especially
+about meal time. But ‘error of vision’&mdash;and
+what was that other thing&mdash;‘minor
+water-shed,’ wasn’t it? Somehow, the boys
+I’ve known didn’t talk much about such
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s just the Shark’s way, ma’am,”
+Sam hastened to explain. “You see he’s a
+crackerjack at mathematics, and it’s all he
+cares for. That’s why we call him the Shark&mdash;he
+gobbles up problems so! And when he<span class="pagenum">[175]</span>
+saw that funny map, he couldn’t help figuring
+what it meant.”</p>
+
+<p>“He figured one thing correctly, at any
+rate,” said Mr. Grant. “There is a water-shed
+there, for there’s a spring, and the overflow
+drains north.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’ll be time enough for surveying
+talk, or whatever you call it, after dinner,” his
+wife interposed decidedly. “Come on, everybody!
+The things are on the table.”</p>
+
+<p>The boys streamed into the dining-room,
+and took the places their hostess pointed out.
+Varley was again unobtrusively observant.
+This room, like the other, was big and cheery,
+with plants at the windows. A huge sideboard,
+set on curiously slender legs, ran half
+the length of one of the walls. Above it was
+a shelf on which stood a fine old clock. The
+table was very long; long enough, indeed, to
+accommodate all the party, including Lon,
+who took his chair quite as a matter of course.
+The cloth was fine and snowy white; the
+china and glass good, though a bit miscellaneous
+in design. Varley was clever enough
+to understand that the Grants evidently were
+very comfortably well-to-do, and this was<span class="pagenum">[176]</span>
+borne out by the hospitable profusion with
+which the board was spread. There was set
+before Mr. Grant a huge platter, piled high
+with chicken fried a wonderful brown. There
+were mashed potatoes, and beets, and onions,
+and other vegetables; there was a wholesale
+supply of apple sauce and cranberries, and
+half a dozen kinds of pickles. There were
+supplies of bread and butter for a small regiment,
+and tall pitchers of milk, with a steaming
+urn of coffee, over which Mrs. Grant
+presided. A ruddy and somewhat agitated
+maid hovered about her mistress, with whom
+she exchanged stage whispers frequently,
+followed by raids upon the pantry and replenishment
+of this or that dish. It was all very
+informal, very jolly, and, above all, very, very
+good. There were certain flaky biscuits, which
+captivated Paul, and of which he consumed
+more than he liked to keep count of; though
+nobody seemed to bother on that score. Twice
+his plate went back for more chicken, following,
+be it said, the example set by other plates.
+The ride had sharpened appetites, which were
+healthily developed, anyway; the blandishments
+of Mrs. Grant were hardly needed to<span class="pagenum">[177]</span>
+persuade her guests to prove themselves
+mighty trenchermen.</p>
+
+<p>In that hospitable warmth good fellowship
+reigned. Step threw off his burden of care
+because of Poke’s misfortune, while Poke
+himself roused to a somewhat subdued cheerfulness.
+There might be dark trouble ahead,
+but for the present he gave himself to the good
+things of the moment.</p>
+
+<p>Sam was as merry as the others, but a
+shadow of apprehension fell upon his face
+when Mrs. Grant rose and slipped into the
+pantry, whence proceeded sounds of her
+whispered conference with her assistant.
+Sam, of a sudden, had warnings. He had
+almost forgotten that long-promised mince
+pie; now he recalled it, with remembrance
+of the anguish of mind it had caused him
+and wonder if it was to put him to further
+ordeals. Luckily, he had not long to wait in
+uncertainty. The pantry door swung. Appeared
+Mrs. Grant personally bearing the
+famous pie, the maid escorting her.</p>
+
+<p>And what a pie it was!</p>
+
+<p>Lon’s admiring exclamation was no more
+than deserved tribute. “Great Scott, Mis’<span class="pagenum">[178]</span>
+Grant, but you sure done it this time! I’ve
+been brung up with pies, and I thought I’d
+seen all kinds they was, but I never clapped
+eyes on an old he-one like that! Jupiter
+crickets!”</p>
+
+<p>Now, in truth, it was a great pie, an enormous
+pie, a pie of dimensions, baked in the
+biggest dish any of the boys had ever seen so
+used; a dish deep and wide. And it was a
+pie crowned with a gently rising dome of
+crust, tinted with the rich brown which bespeaks
+perfect cooking. Mrs. Grant set it on
+the table; the maid came, bearing a pile of
+plates. Knife in hand, the hostess paused to
+address the company.</p>
+
+<p>“Boys, I can’t make a speech, but I’m
+going to tell you something. It’s kind of a
+family tradition of the Grants&mdash;a mince pie
+is. Why, way back in the days of Dominie
+Pike&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Dominie Pike!” It was the usually silent
+Tom Orkney who spoke, and his voice had a
+queer trace of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant turned to him. “Why, yes&mdash;the
+Grants claim descent from him. But
+what’s the matter?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[179]</span></p>
+
+<p>Tom went a fiery red under the gaze of the
+company. “I&mdash;I&mdash;oh, nothing’s the matter,”
+he stammered confusedly. “Only the name&mdash;it’s
+odd, you know, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant nodded briskly. “Does sound
+odd these times&mdash;‘Dominie Pike.’ And I
+guess he was an odd stick himself, for all he
+was a minister and mighty close to a great
+man. But you’re waiting to hear what he
+has to do with mince pies&mdash;the Grant kind.
+Well, I’ll tell you. Once he came back, nigh
+starved and poor as Job’s turkey after one of
+his trips in the woods with his Indian friends.
+Never heard about his chumming around
+with the old chiefs? Well, he did, and they
+thought a sight of him. But that ain’t the
+story I’m telling. You see, he’d been away
+a long time, and supplies at home were running
+mighty low. And his wife, she’d got
+most desperate. So what did she do, but take
+all the scraps and odds and ends she had&mdash;and
+they were about all she did have, I guess&mdash;and
+make ’em into a pie. And it turned
+out nearer a mince pie than any other kind.
+And just when it was done and cooling, and
+the children were licking their lips and rubbing<span class="pagenum">[180]</span>
+their poor little tummies, home comes
+the Dominie out of the woods. And he sees
+that blessed pie, and he descends upon it like
+a wolf. And he eats it all, every crumb.
+And everybody’s so glad to see him alive nobody
+says anything to warn him that he’s
+putting away the family’s dinner&mdash;and supper,
+too, I reckon.</p>
+
+<p>“And finally he pushes back the plate, and
+sits quiet for a minute. And then he looks at
+his wife, and his eye sort of twinkles. And
+he says in his way&mdash;and it was a good deal of
+a way he had, by all the stories&mdash;he says:
+‘Wife, as you well know, I hold not with the
+pomps and vanities. But, for sustenance and
+nourishing qualities, yonder pastry appears to
+me to have possessed certain worthy qualities.
+So I do advise that in the event of good service
+by any of these children here present, they
+be reasonably rewarded with a pie like this
+one.’</p>
+
+<p>“And that’s the story that has been handed
+down in the family; and that’s the reason
+we’ve set great store by our mince pies as
+rewards of merit. And so, when Master Sam
+Parker”&mdash;here she beamed on that youth&mdash;“when<span class="pagenum">[181]</span>
+he did me a very good turn, I just
+naturally made up my mind to treat him by
+the Dominie Pike recipe. Sometimes I’ve
+wondered if he didn’t think a mince pie was
+a funny medal, but now he knows&mdash;and you
+friends of his know&mdash;why you’re facing this
+mince pie, and why I expect you to treat it
+the way the old Dominie treated his. If you
+leave a crumb of it, I shan’t like it one bit&mdash;so
+there!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you won’t be disappointed!” Sam
+cried hastily. “It&mdash;it’s a beautiful pie. And&mdash;and
+I like the story that goes with it,” he
+added after the briefest of pauses.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant gave him a glance of understanding.
+“Well, now, I thought you might,”
+she said. “Boys are funny&mdash;you never can
+tell how things’ll strike ’em. And a pie&mdash;even
+a mince pie&mdash;might worry some of them,
+if it was a&mdash;a&mdash;well, a present, you know, and
+meant for sort of a good conduct badge, and
+so on. And if they didn’t take it right&mdash;why&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Then Sam spoke with decision and emphasis.
+“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Grant,” he said.
+“This bully pie is going to be taken right!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[182]</span></p>
+
+<p>The lady’s broad-bladed knife drove through
+the crust of the great pie.</p>
+
+<p>“Have those plates ready, Hannah!” she
+warned the maid. “And don’t forget the
+whipped cream&mdash;no, nor the maple fluff.”
+Again she glanced at her guest of honor.
+“Which will you have with the pie? Maybe,
+though, you’d like both.” With practiced
+hand she was removing a huge sector and
+placing it upon a plate. “Both, did you say?
+They go together very nicely.”</p>
+
+<p>Two big glass bowls had been set beside the
+monster pie, one filled with cream beaten to a
+delightful fluffiness, the other with something
+very pleasing to the eye and suggesting to
+Varley a light caramel.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try both,” said Sam valiantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Good for you!” exclaimed his hostess.
+“That’s one comfort of having boys around,
+though. When you take extra trouble to
+please ’em, they’ll meet you half-way.
+They’ve got real appetites, and they know
+what to do with them. Now, I don’t believe
+Dominie Pike had whipped cream with his
+pie, but that was his misfortune and not his
+fault. And as for the maple fluff&mdash;well, we<span class="pagenum">[183]</span>
+set great store by that in Sugar Valley, which
+wouldn’t have been called so if it wasn’t for
+its maple sugar.”</p>
+
+<p>Paul Varley spoke a bit impetuously: “Oh,
+maple sugar? After dinner we may see how
+it’s made, mayn’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant nodded briskly. “Indeed you
+shall! The sap isn’t really running yet, but
+we’ve got all the fixings.... Quick! More
+plates, Hannah!” She was serving the dessert
+with dextrous speed. “Don’t wait, boys!...
+And you’ll have both trimmings,
+won’t you?” She now was addressing Poke.
+“Excuse me if I can’t keep all your names
+straight, but you look as if you might have a
+sweet tooth.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ma’am, both, if you please,” said Poke
+heartily. For the moment, at least, he had
+quite forgotten his sorrows.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant beamed upon him. “That’s
+what I like to hear! Give me good, lusty
+boys every time!... And it’ll be both for
+you, too, won’t it?” she asked, turning to Step.</p>
+
+<p>The elongated youth quite matched Poke’s
+heartiness. “Yes, ma’am, both will do very
+nicely.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[184]</span></p>
+
+<p>Lon Gates chuckled. “Oh, he can stand
+it, all right. Some folks is built to stow it
+sideways, and some to stow it up and down.”</p>
+
+<p>“And some take care of it both ways, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, that’s me,” quoth Lon, quite unabashed.
+“’Specially when it comes to Sugar
+Valley mince pies,” he added gallantly.</p>
+
+<p>It was a deserved tribute. Every boy at
+the table was ready to vow that never had
+there been another mince pie to match the
+toothsome marvel of Sugar Valley cookery,
+composed and baked for the honor and delectation
+of Sam Parker and his friends.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[185]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">EXPLORING THE VALLEY</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Probably everybody notices, from time to
+time, how things which would seem to be
+trifling in themselves bring about results
+which are anything but trifling. Paul
+Varley’s interest in sugar making was to
+prove a case in point.</p>
+
+<p>If Varley had not been with the Safety
+First Club that day, it is altogether likely
+that the trip to the maple groves would have
+been omitted. The big dinner, with Sam’s
+wonderful mince pie as its climax, left the
+Grants’ guests very well pleased with the
+world in general but not at all disposed to
+exertion, especially as the weather showed no
+improvement. Back in the great living-room
+the party settled down in a semicircle before
+the open fireplace, where now a cheery little
+pile of birch was blazing.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll have it for company, anyway,”
+Mrs. Grant explained, as she touched a<span class="pagenum">[186]</span>
+match to the kindling. “The steam keeps
+us warm enough&mdash;and some to spare&mdash;days
+like this, but I must say I like the sparkle
+and crackle. Kind of sociable like, ain’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m&mdash;makes me think of a lively widow
+next door!” chuckled Lon.</p>
+
+<p>“Hm-m! Don’t see as you’ve got any call,
+Lon Gates, to make jokes about widows,” said
+Mrs. Grant with spirit. “None of ’em’s got
+you yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you never can tell, ma’am. I’m
+young yet.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant shook her head, half reprovingly.
+“I believe you are, Lon. Still, I remember
+when&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“When I could eat a meal like these
+youngsters have just stowed away,” Lon
+put in. “Yes’m, yes’m; that’s so. But I’ll
+say this, ma’am: I didn’t get many such
+chances in my time to treat myself like an
+anacondy snake same as these youngsters
+have.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense! They’ve just nice, wholesome
+appetites.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon chuckled again. “Well, maybe you’re
+right, at that. Fillin’ a growin’ boy is a good<span class="pagenum">[187]</span>
+deal like pourin’ water into a sieve. But jest
+for the time bein’, I’d say, you’ve got this
+crowd full to the brim.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark rose rather jerkily, and walked
+up to the profile map. He regarded it with
+a fascination like that the ill-omened vase at
+the hotel had had for Poke. Mr. Grant joined
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“My father made that,” said the farmer.
+“You see, it was this way: One winter he
+was laid up with a broken leg, and wanted
+to have something to keep him busy. He’d
+done some work on the big map at the state
+house&mdash;he was a surveyor, among other
+things, you understand&mdash;and it struck him
+he’d fix up this affair for our valley. It happened
+he’d run levels all over it, and had his
+records; so he had plenty to go by. And
+they do say this is amazing accurate. Why,
+when the government men came through here
+a few years back&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I know&mdash;they mapped all this region,”
+the Shark interrupted. “Computed elevations,
+set monuments, all that sort of thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they found father had hit mighty
+close to the mark. And their monuments&mdash;that’s<span class="pagenum">[188]</span>
+your word for ’em, eh?&mdash;you can find
+three-four of ’em scattered around. Mostly
+they’re on the hills, but down by the river
+they set one on a little rise. If ’twa’n’t for
+the snow you could find it easily.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark ran his eye over the map. “The
+valley’s really like a big bowl,” said he, meditatively.
+“And that’s a mighty narrow outlet&mdash;place
+we came through, where the bridges
+are&mdash;more like the neck of a bottle. I should
+think the ice would jam there. Then if there
+should be a flood&mdash;say, things would happen!”</p>
+
+<p>“So they would. But the big dam up
+above’ll hold, I guess. You see, years ago
+there was a scheme to turn the whole valley
+into a reservoir, but it’d have taken more
+money than the folks could raise. So they
+went up-stream a few miles, and put in their
+dam there. But we ain’t had any floods in
+Sugar Valley, for all the mouth of it’s like
+the mouth of a bottle, as you were saying.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly!” quoth the Shark, but kept his
+gaze upon the map. “And so there is a government
+marker down by the river&mdash;on a
+little rise? Wonder if it isn’t about there?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[189]</span></p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grant looked at the spot to which the
+Shark pointed. “You’ve hit it close, young
+man,” he declared.</p>
+
+<p>A very slight, but very satisfied, smile lessened
+the severity of the Shark’s expression.
+“I felt pretty sure I had,” he remarked complacently.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant turned from poking the fire and
+mounding the birch logs to her fancy.</p>
+
+<p>“No; we don’t have floods often in Sugar
+Valley,” she observed, “though anybody
+might think we would. Somehow, the river
+takes care of the water. Of course, ’way back
+in Dominie Pike’s time, they did have some
+amazing freshets&mdash;he told about ’em in his
+diary, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom Orkney bent forward. “Then you’ve
+seen the diary, ma’am?” he inquired eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant laughed. “Bless your heart,
+no! It disappeared years before I happened
+along.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” There was a disappointment in
+Tom’s tone, which didn’t escape Mrs. Grant’s
+attention.</p>
+
+<p>“It is an awful pity!” she said. “The
+Dominie, I guess, put down ’most everything<span class="pagenum">[190]</span>
+that happened, and if folks could find his
+book now, they could settle a lot of points
+they’re disputing. But seventy-five or eighty
+years ago people didn’t set such store by old
+things&mdash;they were too glad to get new ones,
+maybe&mdash;and so lots of stuff was lost that
+would bring high prices nowadays. Why,
+the diary just knocked about, as you might
+say&mdash;or part of it did. Mr. Grant’s grandfather
+always insisted that the Dominie filled
+three or four note-books, and that the one
+folks saw&mdash;that’s the one, by the way, all the
+stories told now are based on&mdash;why, he always
+argued that that was the last, or next to the
+last, of the set. ’Tis a fact it didn’t tell much
+about the very earliest days of the settlement&mdash;I’ve
+heard that point spoken of. But, anyway,
+it passed from hand to hand in the
+family, and was borrowed by neighbors, and
+got all thumbed and dog-eared, and worn and
+tattered; and, finally, it just dropped out of
+sight. Too bad, but that’s what happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nobody copied it?” asked Tom.</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, yes and no. Nobody copied
+it all&mdash;nobody thought it worth the trouble
+in those days. I’ve seen in old letters lots of<span class="pagenum">[191]</span>
+references to it and its stories, and once or
+twice I’ve come across short quotations from
+it. But there’s another mix-up&mdash;in trying to
+find out about it now, I mean. You see, along
+about 1800 there was a Grant who was a great
+practical joker, and sort of a bookish fellow,
+too; and, somehow, the combination set him
+to writing a burlesque diary. It was about
+people of his time, but he imitated the Dominie’s
+style, and he was a clever hand at it;
+and what with most of the family names
+around here being the same as in the Dominie’s
+day and the imitation being so good&mdash;well,
+after a while even folks who’d read both
+got sort of mixed as to what was in which.
+So now nobody really knows where truth ends
+and jokes begin in half the traditions of the
+town. What makes it worse is that the
+Grant diary disappeared, too. Very likely
+the man who wrote it destroyed it, when he
+got older, and took a more serious view of life.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Orkney again. There was still
+disappointment in his tone.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve looked high and low for both books,
+of course; but I guess they’re lost for good.
+This valley, you know, was where the Dominie<span class="pagenum">[192]</span>
+settled. He gave it the name it’s had ever
+since&mdash;Sugar Valley. That was because he
+found the Indians here were making sugar.
+Mighty poor stuff it was, probably, and more
+than half dirt. But it was sweet, and real
+sugar was hard to get. Maybe that was one
+reason the Dominie stayed here, and built
+a cabin, and then a house, and finally a
+better house. Oh, it was quite a mansion,
+that last house of his was&mdash;a sort of show
+place, though I guess there weren’t many
+people to show it to. But it was made of
+sawed boards instead of logs, and there was a
+wonderful great chimney, and the fireplaces
+were as big as some rooms are nowadays.
+Yes, and one of the up-stairs rooms had a fireplace;
+and that, I guess, was a sort of eighth
+wonder of the world&mdash;this part of the world,
+anyway. But here I am, talking as if you
+couldn’t see the place for yourselves, if you
+want to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it still stands?” Orkney asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed it does! Nobody has lived in it
+for years and years, but it’s still there&mdash;nearly
+a mile from here, and close to the river. Of
+course, it’s rickety, but it doesn’t tumble down,<span class="pagenum">[193]</span>
+and I don’t see any signs that it’s likely to.
+Once or twice we’ve talked about restoring it,
+and fixing it up, but we’ve never got around
+to do it; though some folks say we ought to
+turn it into a sort of historical museum. But,
+as I say, we haven’t got to it. And as for exploring
+the old place&mdash;why, why&mdash;a miserable
+day like this&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant hesitated. As she chanced to be
+looking at Varley, it was he who made answer
+to her unfinished question.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, another time will do just as well.
+And it was the sugar making that we’d especially
+like to see, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re interested in that, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Very interested; it’ll be all new to me.
+And&mdash;and”&mdash;Paul smiled engagingly&mdash;“and
+your maple fluff, Mrs. Grant, was awfully
+good. It made a fellow all the more anxious
+to find out about the flavoring.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant was pleased, and showed it.
+“So you liked it, then? Well, ’tis kind of
+tasty, though there’s really nothing to it but
+whipped white of egg, and just a mite of
+cream, and a dash of maple. But put it on
+mince pie&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[194]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Geeminy, but it’s cracking good!” Step
+interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I’d call it grand,” quoth Poke solemnly,
+and licked his lips reminiscently.</p>
+
+<p>Then Mrs. Grant laughed. “Ha, ha, ha!
+I vow, but there’d be some satisfaction in cooking
+for a lot of folks like you boys! But if
+you want to see where the maple comes from&mdash;why,
+I don’t want to turn you out in the
+wet, but you ought to be looking around while
+the light’s as good as it’s likely to be this day.
+And so, if Mr. Grant is ready, and you’re ready
+to start&mdash;why, that’s just what I’d do if I were
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>Now, probably there was nobody concerned&mdash;except
+Varley, of course&mdash;who wouldn’t
+have been willing to omit the expedition.
+But Paul was genuinely interested, and so
+evident was this fact that none of the others
+were willing to offer objection. Caps and
+overcoats and overshoes were brought out and
+donned, and with Mr. Grant in the lead the
+party streamed out of the house.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t stay too long!” Mrs. Grant called
+after them. “My, but it’s getting to be weepy
+weather! Well, I’ll have something warm<span class="pagenum">[195]</span>
+and comforting waiting for you when you
+come back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Weepy weather,” indeed, fitted the case.
+The air was milder than ever, and more
+charged with moisture. Eaves were dripping,
+and little streams trickled down the trunks
+of the trees; under foot the melting snow lay
+in a dwindling, soggy mass. What was more,
+a thin drizzle was falling, hardly to be called
+a rain, but curiously searching and penetrating
+in its dampness.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grant glanced at the leaden sky, and
+shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say things were
+going to be worse before they’re better,” he remarked.
+“Way the wind’s been hanging in
+the east&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“More southeast, ain’t it?” Lon inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“In-between. Vane on the barn ain’t
+hardly wiggled all day. And it’s pointing
+right to where our big rains hail from.
+Funny we haven’t had it harder. Up-river
+they’ve been getting a reg’lar downpour, accordin’
+to what they’re telephoning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph!” said Lon. “Then you’ll be<span class="pagenum">[196]</span>
+havin’ a sight o’ water for this river o’ yourn
+to take care of, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s done just that every spring,”
+said Mr. Grant.</p>
+
+<p>“Mebbe. Only I’ve got kinder a notion
+from the feel o’ things that there’s a reg’lar
+weather buster brewin’.”</p>
+
+<p>“My notion ain’t so far from yours,” Mr.
+Grant agreed. Then he turned to the boys.
+“We’ll take a look at what we call the
+‘Island’&mdash;that’s where we make most of our
+sugar. Got some trees tapped already, though
+the season ain’t really begun yet. But it’ll
+be easier to show you than to tell you about
+it. So come along!”</p>
+
+<p>They followed him, in Indian file, along a
+well-beaten path through the snow, a path
+that wound and twisted to avoid groves and
+patches of thicket. The floor of the valley
+seemed to be almost level, after the descent
+from the natural terrace on which the house
+stood; but, plainly enough, not much of the
+land was under cultivation. Except for the
+fact that their course was generally toward
+the river, the boys had little idea of their
+destination, and Sam, with the teachings of<span class="pagenum">[197]</span>
+Safety First in mind, remarked to himself
+that here was a stretch of country in which a
+fellow might very easily lose his bearings.
+Not that he had any thought of danger. Even
+if anybody lost his way, temporarily, he could
+steer for the hills and so, sooner or later, come
+to higher ground and the road. So he trudged
+along, digging his chin deep in his upturned
+collar, and making the best of unpleasant
+conditions.</p>
+
+<p>Sam noticed, presently, that one at least of
+his companions was showing signs of losing
+heart. Poke had started out near the head of
+the line, and, comforted by food and warmth,
+had appeared to be in excellent spirits. Very
+soon, however, the melancholy weather had
+its effect. Probably it reminded him of his
+gloomy prospects and the staggering bill for
+the big vase. At any rate, his steps lagged.
+One after another passed him, until he was
+the last straggler in the line. As it proved,
+he was far behind the rest of the party when
+they came to the “Island.”</p>
+
+<p>As has been said, this was not an island,
+but a low knoll, covered by a fine growth of
+maples. On one side stood a small building,<span class="pagenum">[198]</span>
+half house, half shed; and here was an equipment
+of great kettles for “boiling down” the
+collected sap. There was an orderly pile of
+new cans, in which the syrup would be
+shipped, and there were boxes awaiting the
+sugar, to which part of the yield of the grove
+would be reduced.</p>
+
+<p>“I hear they’ve got a lot of newfangled
+modern improvements,” Mr. Grant remarked,
+“but we stick to the old ways. Of course, we
+ain’t big producers and shippers, but we manage
+’most every season to do something of a
+trade. And now I’ll show you how we do it.”</p>
+
+<p>With that he took Varley in hand. He displayed
+the little spouts which were placed in
+holes in the maple trunks, and along which
+the sap ran to pails. Then he showed big
+buckets, into which collectors emptied the
+contents of the pails, and which brought their
+gallons and gallons of the thin sap to the
+kettles, there to be reduced in volume and
+increased in density until the required standard
+for syrup was reached.</p>
+
+<p>“This isn’t a big plant,” he explained, “but,
+after all, we’re pretty busy around here, when
+things get going. Fires have to be kept up,<span class="pagenum">[199]</span>
+and sap has to be brought in; and of course
+it’s a short season, at the best, and so there
+has to be a hustle. When the sap starts running&mdash;why,
+we have to run, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it hasn’t started yet?” Varley asked.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s starting&mdash;the warm spell sets it going.
+But ’tain’t a full flow yet. You can see
+we’ve got some trees tapped”&mdash;he pointed to
+a near-by part of the grove&mdash;“and if a freeze
+don’t come to check things, we’ll be in full
+swing a good deal quicker than I’d care to
+be. Somehow, I don’t like the looks of the
+weather, or the feel of it, for that matter.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley was quite ready to agree with Mr.
+Grant on this score. The dismal day was
+growing more dismal still; the drizzle was
+heavier; the dense gray clouds seemed to
+hang lower. The other boys, to whom a
+sugar camp was an old story, were huddling
+in the lee of the house. Varley noticed that
+Poke, most sorrowful of face, was in low-toned
+talk with Step, who seemed rapidly to be becoming
+as melancholy as his chum. Then
+Sam joined the pair, and the whispered conversation
+went on, with no sign of rising
+spirits.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[200]</span></p>
+
+<p>Varley was clever enough to make a shrewd
+guess at the situation. Doubtless, sooner or
+later, he would hear all about it, but just
+now the club was keeping its own counsel.
+So he remained near Mr. Grant until the
+latter was called into the house by his hired
+man, who seemed to be unable to find a big
+ladle, of which he announced himself in
+search.</p>
+
+<p>Left alone, Paul took note that the Shark,
+who was peering at the lower ground about
+the “Island” and mumbling to himself in
+dissatisfied fashion, appeared to be on the
+point of starting on some small expedition of
+his own. Paul crossed to him.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s up?” he inquired. “Looking for
+something?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark merely grunted.</p>
+
+<p>“What is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“The marker.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh?” Paul had not been especially impressed
+by the map or the talk about it.</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t you hear?” snapped the Shark.
+“Marker, I said&mdash;marker the government
+surveyors left. Bet you I know where it
+is!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[201]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh! do you?” said Varley, a little
+vaguely.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark snorted. “Huh! Sure I know&mdash;if
+the survey and the map match. Ought
+to be out there.” And he pointed into the
+mists toward the river.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, had it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it had! And I’m going to
+find it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll help you,” said Varley readily.</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks! You don’t know how,” said the
+Shark bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>Varley was good-natured. Moreover, the
+youthful mathematician appealed to his sense
+of humor.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, maybe you can show me how.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so,” the Shark admitted.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I may come along?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you’d like to,” quoth the Shark, half-grudgingly,
+and started off.</p>
+
+<p>Varley followed him. Mr. Grant and his
+helper were still in the house, and the other
+boys were grouped about Poke. None of
+them, as it happened, observed the departure
+of the two.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[202]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE SHARK DEMONSTRATES</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Varley splashed after his leader. No other
+word would quite describe the sort of journey
+he made at the heels of the Shark; for as soon
+as they had descended from the slight rise of
+the “Island,” and come to the lower levels,
+they encountered many evidences of the rapid
+progress of the thaw. Probably even in summer
+there was more or less swampy ground
+hereabouts; but now water from the melting
+snow stood in shallow pools, through which
+the Shark marched unconcernedly. He was
+wearing big overshoes, with tops of waterproof
+cloth buckled tightly about the bottoms
+of his trousers, and appeared to give no more
+thought to the puddles underfoot than he
+gave to the rain.</p>
+
+<p>Paul had a somewhat different equipment,
+inasmuch as he was shod in leather only, but
+leather prepared by some new process for
+rough wear and guaranteed to be water-tight.<span class="pagenum">[203]</span>
+So far the new shoes&mdash;they laced well up his
+legs&mdash;had seemed to meet the guarantee, but
+he began to wonder if they would continue to
+do so. Certainly he was putting them to an
+extreme test, as, for that matter, he was testing
+the qualities of his heavy outer jacket.
+Indeed, he smiled more than once to himself
+as he thought how curiously unlike his city
+experience it was to be trudging along on such
+a day, and in such a place, and, it may be
+added, in such company. For the Shark
+surely was an odd stick. He hardly opened
+his lips as they tramped along, but Varley
+found him entertaining, for all that.</p>
+
+<p>Thick clumps of undergrowth here and
+there prevented a march in a straight course,
+and also so narrowed the field of view that
+Paul had small notion of the direction they
+were taking. The Shark, however, went along
+quite as if he were on familiar ground. To
+be sure, he glanced about him frequently, but
+with an effect, almost, of picking up landmarks;
+and, presently, quickening his pace,
+headed straight into a hedge-like line of
+bushes, forced a passage through them, and
+gave a grunt of satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[204]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Ugh! Hit it about right. Not too far
+up&mdash;that’s the main thing.”</p>
+
+<p>Paul overtook him, and halting, as he had
+halted, looked out upon the Sugar River. It
+was a sizable stream at all times, but now,
+swollen by melting snow, it was a river of
+imposing proportions. It was running almost
+bank full. There was a great deal of ice coming
+down-stream; the cakes, in some cases,
+were like small floes. The current was swift,
+and the cakes ground and grated together
+savagely. Moreover, the water was of a
+muddy color, which could have had nothing
+to do with its temperature, but which, for some
+reason Paul didn’t understand, made him
+shiver.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! I’d hate to have to take a dip
+in there,” said he.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark nodded absently. He was giving
+a moment to studying the opposite
+bank.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course&mdash;too cold.... Be too cold
+for two months yet,” he added.</p>
+
+<p>Varley pushed the collar of his coat higher.
+If he were not mistaken, the rain was increasing.
+Funny how sight of that yellow, rushing<span class="pagenum">[205]</span>
+river made everything seem more dismal
+than ever, he reflected.</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere in the dim distance the Shark
+made out what he had been looking for.</p>
+
+<p>“Um-m! That’ll be it&mdash;highest ground
+anywhere around. Now, if I can get a
+line&mdash;&mdash;” He broke off the sentence, and,
+turning, stared in the direction in which, by
+Varley’s hazy reckoning, lay the Grant farmhouse.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you up to?” Paul inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you s’pose?” countered the Shark
+testily. “Think I’m looking for birds’ nests?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no,” Varley answered humbly; just
+then he was not disposed to controversy.
+His tone was not lost upon the Shark, who
+said, quickly and almost apologetically:</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I say! ’Tisn’t as if you knew more&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;as
+if you were better posted, I mean.
+Ought to have thought of that! But I’m
+getting my bearings. And I <em>am</em> getting
+them, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your bearings?” Paul repeated, doubtfully.
+“Then you’ve been here before.”</p>
+
+<p>“Never in my life. Saw that map, though,
+didn’t I?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[206]</span></p>
+
+<p>“The map? But&mdash;but you didn’t commit
+it to memory, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only the most important part of it,” said
+the Shark simply. “Few of the elevations&mdash;that
+sort of thing. They were marked down
+plain as print.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t notice ’em,” Varley confessed.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark’s lip curled. “Huh! What do
+you have eyes for?” Then he recalled that
+the other was in a sense a stranger and a guest.
+“I mean, it’s a mighty good scheme, when
+you see figures, to jot ’em down in memory.
+Then, if you’ve got nothing else to do, you
+can have fun thinking ’em over and setting
+yourself little problems with ’em. Now, this
+valley’d fool you. Lot less slope to the floor
+of it than you’d suppose. And the way the
+hills line up&mdash;say, though, didn’t notice that,
+either, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I guess I didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“It would have paid you. That government
+marker we’re looking for is right between
+the two highest hills&mdash;one on each side of the
+valley. That is, it is, if the map’s accurate.
+So far, everything’s working out all right. I
+schemed on hitting the river a little below the<span class="pagenum">[207]</span>
+real point and working up, and I think I’ve
+done it. Now let’s get along. Ready?”</p>
+
+<p>“After you,” said Varley.</p>
+
+<p>“Good!” cried the Shark, and off he set,
+not keeping to the bank of the stream, but
+bearing away from it on a long diagonal.</p>
+
+<p>Varley pursued him. By this time there
+could be no doubt that the rain was heavier.
+Underfoot, even where there were no puddles,
+the snow was a clammy mush of penetrating
+chill. Varley began to suspect the worth of
+that guarantee of his new shoes. Very gladly
+he would have turned back, had he been
+alone; but, being with the Shark, he followed
+his leader, who plodded on, giving no heed to
+rain or snow. Again they came to clumps of
+brush, and made detours about them. At
+intervals the Shark halted briefly, scanned
+his surroundings, grunted and went on.
+Varley felt sure they were getting far from the
+island, though he would have been put to it
+to make an estimate of the distance.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark began to slacken pace. His
+halts for observation were more frequent and
+longer. Once or twice he even turned back
+briefly, working over ground they had crossed<span class="pagenum">[208]</span>
+a moment before. Varley saw that a frown
+was on his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Are we&mdash;are we ’most there?” he inquired
+solicitously.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Ought to be.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley cast a glance about him. “I don’t
+see anything of that&mdash;that marker, you called
+it, didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Very deliberately the Shark removed his
+spectacles, and pulled out a handkerchief.
+He cleared the lenses of moisture, set them
+before his eyes, peered&mdash;or tried to peer&mdash;at
+the hills. But the thickening rain hid
+them.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Closing in, ain’t it?” he growled.</p>
+
+<p>“It surely is!” Varley agreed.</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll have to depend more on dead
+reckoning. Let’s see! Um&mdash;um! Allowing
+for the&mdash;&mdash; Look here!” The Shark
+whipped about to glare at his companion.
+“Look here! Don’t suppose that map’s inaccurate,
+do you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m going to know&mdash;and know
+mighty quick,” said the Shark grimly.
+“That marker ought to be within a hundred<span class="pagenum">[209]</span>
+yards&mdash;no, within fifty&mdash;of where we are this
+minute. Maybe there’s snow over it. Still,
+it ought to show&mdash;way the stuff’s melting and
+going off, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley said “Yes,” because he did not know
+what else to say. He was about to add that it
+was raining a lot harder, when his comrade
+gave a shout, and, darting across the little
+open space in which they chanced to be,
+dropped on his knees beside an object just
+protruding from the remains of a snow bank.
+With frantic haste the Shark tore away the
+heavy snow, revealing a low stone post, bearing
+a cryptical, chiseled inscription, of which
+Varley could make nothing. But the Shark
+was raising a shout of jubilation.</p>
+
+<p>“Bully for us! Bully for the map! It’s
+all right! We’re all right! Say, ain’t this
+cracking good sport, Varley?”</p>
+
+<p>Paul tried to feign friendly enthusiasm, but
+he was too damp to be very successful.</p>
+
+<p>“It&mdash;it’s wonderful. Why&mdash;why&mdash;why,
+you didn’t know anything about this place
+except what that map told you, and you came
+straight to&mdash;to where you wanted to come!
+I&mdash;I never heard anything like it!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[210]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Shark patted the stone with a demonstrative
+affection Varley hadn’t dreamed he
+was capable of displaying.</p>
+
+<p>“Bully old rock! Sure you’d be here, where
+you belong! Oh, but I say! This is just the
+greatest sport outdoors!”</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t see&mdash;the marker wasn’t shown
+on the map&mdash;it was put in long after the map
+was made&mdash;I don’t understand&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark interrupted Varley’s broken
+speech.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course! But naturally it would be put
+about here by the government men. If you’d
+taken a good look at the map, you’d have
+seen why. You’d get the line. Then Mr.
+Grant as good as pointed out the spot. After
+that it was just a case of getting the bearings
+in your head and keeping them there&mdash;easy
+as falling off a log, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“It seems to have been easy for you,” Paul
+confessed. “But&mdash;but now that this is done,
+what&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;what do you want to do
+next?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care&mdash;anything,” shrugged the
+Shark.</p>
+
+<p>A dash of rain drove into Paul’s face, and<span class="pagenum">[211]</span>
+gave a hardly needed hint of the desirability of
+shelter.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s getting pretty damp,” he said. “We
+ought to go back, or find some cover till
+there’s a let up in the shower.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, all right,” said the Shark carelessly.
+“Just as you please&mdash;’tis getting to be quite a
+rain, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it is. And it’s going to be a good
+deal of a tramp.”</p>
+
+<p>Thereupon the Shark squinted at the leaden
+sky.</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Doesn’t show signs of clearing, I
+must say. Still, the weather’s the weather,
+and what we know about it doesn’t make an
+exact science. Maybe there’ll be a lull. Meanwhile,
+I suppose we might as well make for
+the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean the Grants’ house or the sugar
+camp?”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither. There’s another, nearer by.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Varley, and, in spite of him,
+the doubt in his tone was manifest.</p>
+
+<p>“Case of map again,” quoth the Shark.
+“House indicated somewhere ’round here.
+Course, I didn’t pay the same attention to it<span class="pagenum">[212]</span>
+that I would to something that really mattered.
+But if you’d like to hunt it up, I’m
+willing enough to hunt with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d very much like to!”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark glanced about him. He furrowed
+his brow reflectively.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s see, now! Farther along it was.
+Yes, and off to the left, I should say&mdash;away
+from the river, that is. Um, um!...
+Hullo! What’s that?”</p>
+
+<p>The “that” had been a sound, faint and far
+off, but easily to be known as the whistle of a
+locomotive. Varley said as much, and said it
+a bit testily; the rain was seemingly growing
+heavier every minute, and he was becoming
+impatient to seek shelter.</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! I knew that, too&mdash;any chump’d
+know it,” growled the Shark. “But was it
+from a main line engine or one of the old
+machines on the branch?”</p>
+
+<p>Paul stared at him. “What difference&mdash;&mdash;”
+he began hotly; then changed his tone. “Say,
+you don’t mean to tell me you know all the
+engines by their whistles?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; not all of ’em&mdash;my ear isn’t true
+enough,” the Shark confessed. “I know a<span class="pagenum">[213]</span>
+fellow, though, who can spot every last one as
+far as he can hear it. He’s got absolute pitch.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“If he hears a sound he can tell you what’s
+the note&mdash;something like that, anyway. Bully
+thing to be able to do! Still, you don’t have
+to have the knack to get a lot out of music.
+I’m going in for music, by the way, when I
+have time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Paul, dubiously. Somehow,
+the Shark never had suggested to him one
+of musical tastes. “So you’re going in for
+it? Oh, yes! And it’ll be&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;violin,
+or piano, or&mdash;or&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks, no!” The Shark’s lip curled
+scornfully. “What’d I want to play anything
+for? And tunes? Bah! I can’t tell one
+from another. And what’s the use of bothering
+to learn to play one instrument, when
+you can have a whole band going for you by
+just starting up a phonograph? But they
+tell me there’s really some good stuff under
+it all&mdash;real mathematics, I mean, when you
+get into counterpoint, or whatever it is they
+call it. So I’m going to take it up when I
+have a little leisure.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[214]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I see&mdash;I get you,” said Paul. Then
+he was reminded by another dash of rain that
+this was hardly a time for gossip in the open.
+“Now, though, how about that house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’ll look for it,” said the Shark;
+and set off in the direction in which he believed
+the building to be.</p>
+
+<p>Paul followed him. He noticed that his
+guide went more slowly than before, and
+that he veered from left to right, and then
+from right to left, as if desiring to cover a
+wider strip of territory. The brush was not
+especially dense, but it was thick enough to
+limit the field of view, so that often it was
+impossible to see more than a few score yards
+ahead. Suddenly, however, the Shark pulled
+up.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! That’ll be the place, I guess,” he
+announced.</p>
+
+<p>Paul made out dimly the line of a roof;
+but what with the rain, and the trees, he
+could do little more than make it out. It
+was not, in fact, until he and the Shark were
+close to the building that they obtained a fair
+view of it.</p>
+
+<p>The house, evidently, was very old. So<span class="pagenum">[215]</span>
+much could be guessed from the mossy roof
+and weatherbeaten walls. Midway of the
+ridge-pole rose a squat and very thick chimney.
+In front the house showed two stories,
+but in the rear the roof ran in a great sweep
+from the ridge-pole to within a couple of feet
+of the tops of the ground-floor windows.
+There was no porch, and, indeed, the house
+was most severely plain in all its outlines.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Old timer,” the Shark observed.
+“And nobody home!”</p>
+
+<p>Presumably it had been a good many years
+since anybody had been at home there. Still,
+the place was not utterly neglected in appearance.
+The stout shutters at the windows
+were closed, and the front door was boarded
+up; what was once the front yard had been
+kept clear of brush.</p>
+
+<p>Varley surveyed the premises with a feeling
+of helplessness; they seemed to offer no
+more shelter than was given by the leafless
+boughs of the trees.</p>
+
+<p>“No; nobody home!” he echoed.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark grunted. “Ugh! Say, ’tis getting
+to rain!” One might suppose from his
+tone that this was a fresh discovery.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[216]</span></p>
+
+<p>Varley nodded. As he did so, the motion
+sent a shower of drops flying from the visor
+of his cap.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark gave a moment or two to consideration
+of the weather signs. Then he
+shook himself much in the manner of a dog
+emerging from a pond.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Can’t say it looks like clearing.
+Still, you never can tell. So long’s we’re
+here, we might as well crawl in somewhere
+out of the wet, and wait a while.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s a place to crawl in?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark stepped up to the door and
+gave a tug at the boards. They were tightly
+nailed.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Nothing doing there,” he reported.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing doing,” Varley repeated dismally.
+His courage was good enough, but he was becoming
+acutely conscious of the physical drawbacks
+of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark tried the nearest shutter. Its
+rusty catch proved obstinate, but at last gave
+way, and the shutter swung, revealing the
+small panes of the window. One or two
+were broken. Quite coolly the Shark smashed<span class="pagenum">[217]</span>
+another, and cautiously thrust a hand through
+the opening.</p>
+
+<p>“What! You’re going to break in?”
+Varley demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“I sure am! If I can find the thing that
+fastens this window!” quoth the Shark. “No
+other way&mdash;that is, if we mean to get inside.
+We can pay for any damage we do afterward,
+but just now our business is to get somewhere
+out of the wet.”</p>
+
+<p>A sharp increase in the downpour&mdash;and by
+this time it undeniably was a downpour&mdash;served
+to emphasize his words. Varley sprang
+to his assistance, and the Shark finding the
+nail which had served as a lock, their united
+efforts contrived to raise the lower sash. The
+Shark climbed and wriggled, and Varley
+boosted so energetically that at last the explorer
+shot through the opening and into the
+dimness of the room beyond. He was up in
+a minute and stretching out a hand to his
+ally, who lost no time in climbing after
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! What faded-out air!” gasped the
+Shark.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; it’s all of that!” Varley agreed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[218]</span></p>
+
+<p>Indeed, the room was close and stuffy, as
+rooms long closed are likely to be. But it
+was a dry, if musty, closeness, a deal better
+than the wetness of out-of-doors. The Shark
+shook himself again.</p>
+
+<p>“Gorry! Say, but this beats the other
+thing,” he declared. “Bet you that window
+hasn’t been open, though, in ten years; though
+the folks seem to have kept a lot of furniture
+here.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley peered into the shadows. He could
+make out the shapes of a settle and a table,
+and something he took to be an ancient chest
+of drawers. Also he was quite sure there was
+a fireplace. Cold and black as it was, it drew
+him like a magnet. He started across the
+room, and now the Shark followed instead
+of led.</p>
+
+<p>“Now look&mdash;I’ve the luck to have a box
+of matches along,” said he. “If we can find
+something to burn we&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There he broke off, as Varley uttered a
+startled exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>Beneath the feet of the explorers was an
+ominous creak. It turned swiftly to the
+grating sound of breaking wood. The floor<span class="pagenum">[219]</span>
+sagged; the old boards parted. The boys,
+clawing vainly for support, shot down through
+the aperture into a cellar, which was like a
+pit for blackness.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[220]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE HUNT</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>“I tell you, it’s the only way. Don’t you
+suppose I’ve figured and figured on what to
+do? Well, I have; and there’s just one answer.
+I can’t dodge it, and I won’t try. I’ve
+got to pay up, and I will pay up&mdash;somehow.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke said it bravely enough and determinedly&mdash;all
+except the last word. The
+“somehow” came after a little pause, and
+dragged at that.</p>
+
+<p>“But you can’t!” blurted the Trojan.
+“You’ve just told us you couldn’t raise the
+money.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke had his back against the wall of the
+sugar camp; literally and figuratively he was
+like one making a last stand.</p>
+
+<p>“But I’ve got to raise it&mdash;somehow.”
+Again there was the brief pause; again there
+was a catch in his voice. “I’m responsible;
+I smashed that vase. I didn’t mean to smash
+it, but that makes no difference.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[221]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Umph! I’m not so sure of that,” objected
+the Trojan.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what I say, too,” Step put in.
+“Seems as if there ought to be some way&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“What! To wriggle out of it?” Poke demanded
+indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why&mdash;I&mdash;I wouldn’t exactly&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s what you meant, all the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; ’tisn’t!” Step insisted.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then, what did you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I&mdash;well, it’s sort of hard to put into
+words, but&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I guess it is hard,” Poke interrupted.</p>
+
+<p>Then Sam Parker stepped forward. He had
+not been taking a very active part in the discussion,
+but had been listening intently.</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on, fellows!” said he. “This isn’t
+getting us anywhere. I suppose we had to
+talk this thing out, but now we’ve done it.
+All hands know what’s happened to Poke and
+why he’s so down in the mouth. We’re sorry
+for him, every one of us, but there’s no use
+crying over spilt milk or broken vases; and
+so&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Hey! Who’s crying?” Poke protested.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s just a figure of speech,” said<span class="pagenum">[222]</span>
+Sam. “Forget it, Poke! Let’s get down to
+business, everybody. Now, I’m not so all-fired
+sure Poke really ought to pay all that
+money. The vase ought to have been in a
+safer place, if it was so valuable. And I think
+that’s Varley’s notion, too; and he’s sort of
+posted, as you might say, about a lot of
+things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Varley!” exclaimed Poke, and
+glanced about him a little apprehensively.</p>
+
+<p>“Varley’s out of the way,” Sam went on.
+“I guess he understood the club would want
+a chance to hold a council of war, for he could
+see that something had gone wrong, even if
+he didn’t know just what it was.”</p>
+
+<p>“The Shark’s missing, too,” Herman Boyd
+remarked.</p>
+
+<p>Sam nodded. “So he is. Probably they’ve
+strolled off together. That’s all right, though.
+The Shark will stand for anything the rest of
+us decide to do. It’s a job for all the club, of
+course, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you make that out?” Poke
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Easily enough. You broke the vase&mdash;that’s
+true. But you wouldn’t have broken<span class="pagenum">[223]</span>
+it, for you wouldn’t have been at the hotel or
+giving a dinner if it hadn’t been that you wanted
+to square the club’s account with Varley.”</p>
+
+<p>“Now you’re talking sense, Sam!” cried
+the Trojan.</p>
+
+<p>“I know I am. And it’s only sensible for
+us to treat this thing as hitting the whole
+club.... That’s all right, Poke! You
+can say it hit you first, but we feel it hit us
+afterward. So we ought to pull together, and
+we will. Now if we all chip in&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“I can put in ten dollars,” said Tom Orkney
+promptly.</p>
+
+<p>“Gee! Wish I could do as well!” cried
+Herman Boyd. “Maybe, though, I can
+scrape together five or six dollars. I’ve sort
+of run ahead of my allowance, or I’d promise
+more.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m in the same box with Herman,” the
+Trojan declared.</p>
+
+<p>Step coughed uneasily. As the especial
+crony of Poke, he really should be taking a
+leading part in these measures of financial
+relief.</p>
+
+<p>“Ahem, ahem! I&mdash;I&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;course you
+fellows know where I stand. And I’d give<span class="pagenum">[224]</span>
+my eye-teeth to help Poke out of the scrape.
+But it just happens I’m awfully short of cash.
+But I tell you what I’ll do: I’ll subscribe as
+much as the next fellow, and I’ll put it in, if
+only I can borrow it somewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” said Sam hastily, and shook
+his head warningly at the Trojan who was
+beginning to grin.</p>
+
+<p>Again Step cleared his throat. “Ahem!
+Poke’s folks don’t want to hear about this,
+you understand&mdash;that is, we don’t want ’em
+to hear about it. You see, what with one
+thing and another lately&mdash;well, things have
+been breaking mighty badly for Poke at the
+house&mdash;things that weren’t really his fault, if
+you’d look at ’em right, but that just kept
+piling up on him. And so&mdash;well, this isn’t
+any time for more bad news to arrive.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should say not!” groaned Poke soulfully.</p>
+
+<p>Sam had been doing some mental arithmetic.
+“Look here, everybody! With what
+I can chip in, and what the Shark’ll do, I
+feel sure we can raise sixty or seventy dollars.
+That ought to be enough for sort of a first
+payment.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[225]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But I ought to make the payment,” Poke
+insisted.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t,” Sam told him bluntly.
+“That’s why we’re going to help you. And
+we’ll gain a little time for you to look around
+and scheme out ways to get the rest of the
+money.”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of this prospect of problems to
+come the face of Poke brightened a trifle.
+But it quickly clouded again.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I say, you fellows!” Poke said
+sharply. “I’m ready to take help from any
+of you, or from all of you&mdash;as a loan, of
+course; I’ll pay you back&mdash;but Varley must
+be kept out of this! It&mdash;it isn’t his funeral.”</p>
+
+<p>“Right-o!” Sam agreed.</p>
+
+<p>“No; this is our party&mdash;he’s an outsider!”
+chimed in the Trojan.</p>
+
+<p>The others nodded approval. Here was a
+matter purely for the Safety First Club.</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll call so much settled,” quoth
+Sam. “But, talking about Varley, where is
+he?” He peered hard at the grove of maples,
+and turned again to his companions. “I
+haven’t a notion where he can be, or the
+Shark, either.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[226]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I guess they’ll turn up soon enough,”
+said Step. “Nowhere else for them to go, is
+there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in this rain.”</p>
+
+<p>“Rain!” The Trojan caught at the word.
+“Rain! Sam, you’ve said it! It’s coming
+down, good and plenty. And ain’t it funny
+we were all so busy with Poke’s affairs that
+we didn’t notice it?”</p>
+
+<p>This was quite true. So absorbed had the
+club been that no heed had been paid by any
+of the boys to the steady increase in the rain.</p>
+
+<p>Again Sam glanced about. “I don’t believe
+we ought to stay here any longer. It’s
+going to be a job to get back to town, and we
+ought to be making a start.”</p>
+
+<p>As if in answer to a call, Mr. Grant came
+out of the camp.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! but this is getting to be a reg’lar
+wet spell,” he remarked. “And I don’t see
+any signs of a let-up. Too bad you boys
+should strike such a day to visit Sugar
+Valley!”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re sorry, too, sir,” Sam assured him.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grant looked the group over. “Let’s
+see! All here, are you?... No; must<span class="pagenum">[227]</span>
+be two-three missing. What’s become of that
+little chap with the glasses and the other
+fellow who wanted to know all about sugar
+making?”</p>
+
+<p>“They must have gone back, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Don’t know but they did the
+sensible thing. I hadn’t realized how it was
+getting to rain.”</p>
+
+<p>“We didn’t notice, either. And as for
+Varley and the Shark&mdash;that’s our nickname
+for the fellow with the glasses, you know&mdash;I
+suppose they must have started for the
+house?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam made his statement more than half a
+question. Mr. Grant treated it as one.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I guess they must have. They’d
+looked around here, and there ain’t much to
+see except the camp. Yes; I dare say they’re
+toasting their shins by the fire this minute.
+And I reckon we might as well follow ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>Nobody was disposed to delay; nor, for
+that matter, was there any lingering on the
+way to the farmhouse. Heads bowed to the
+storm, collars turned high, hands buried in
+pockets, the party splashed across the fields
+with Mr. Grant in the lead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[228]</span></p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant was ready to receive them. She
+took absolute command the moment they entered
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Get out of your wet things this instant,
+every one of you!” she ordered. “Hannah,
+you take the overcoats and hang ’em up by
+the kitchen stove. And you boys, you get over
+by the living-room fire. Mercy me! but you’re
+as sopping wet as our old cat was the day he
+fell into the cistern. And don’t be afraid to
+take off your shoes and dry ’em&mdash;wet feet’s
+the worst thing that can happen; and I’m not
+going to have your mothers think I let company
+manners help give you all colds. Yes,
+and don’t be bashful about pulling off your
+socks if the water got through to ’em. And
+Hannah, oh, Hannah! Run up-stairs and
+bring down some of Mr. Grant’s socks&mdash;bring
+enough to go ’round. They’ll be a mite
+roomy, maybe, but that won’t matter. And
+bring along all the slippers you happen to see....
+Eh, eh? What’s that, now?” Sam
+had put a somewhat anxious inquiry when
+the lady paused an instant for breath. “The
+others, you say? Aren’t they here? No,
+they’re not. But which ones do you mean?<span class="pagenum">[229]</span>
+Let’s see! Let me take tally.... Oh, I
+see now. You mean that queer little one I
+thought was looking for dust on the map, and
+the other boy&mdash;the nice, polite one&mdash;not that
+you aren’t all polite, of course!” she concluded
+hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Sam’s face lengthened. “We missed them,”
+he explained, “but supposed, of course, they’d
+started back together.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant shook her head vigorously.
+“If they started, they didn’t get here. And
+that’s funny, too; for how could they miss
+the path? But don’t you worry! They’ll
+come straggling in pretty soon, I warrant you.
+And they couldn’t come to much harm anywhere
+in Sugar Valley. So just you sit down
+and make yourself comfortable while you
+wait for ’em.” And she gave Sam a friendly
+push toward the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Sam drew his chair close to the hearth,
+where most of the other boys already had
+taken their places. Both the light and
+warmth from the blazing logs were cheering,
+and the spirits of the party were improving
+rapidly. Thanks to heavy outer jackets,
+and high overshoes, they had come through<span class="pagenum">[230]</span>
+their experience better than anybody unused
+to rough weather outfits might have supposed
+to be possible; but it was comforting, nevertheless,
+to toast for a little before the fire.
+Then Mrs. Grant, who had her own theories
+as to the wants and tastes of boys, brought in
+a huge dish of doughnuts and another of crullers,
+while Hannah bore a great pitcher of
+lemonade.</p>
+
+<p>“Just a snack, you know,” the hostess declared.
+“A bite or two to tide you over and
+take away that tired feeling.”</p>
+
+<p>In view of the tremendous dinner, this
+luncheon might have been thought a little
+premature, but every member of the Safety
+First Club then present helped himself to a
+doughnut or cruller, and did this most willingly.
+Poke, in spite of his sorrows, especially
+distinguished himself; but even Sam
+was no laggard in performance. Still, his
+sense of responsibility for all of the party
+wasn’t dulled.</p>
+
+<p>The rain was falling more heavily than
+ever&mdash;of this he could be sure from its beating
+on the windows. Mrs. Grant, too, was
+observant of the weather.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[231]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Boys,” she declared, “you can’t drive
+back to town this afternoon in that open
+sleigh. Why, you’d be drowned out! I just
+won’t let you go. Be no trouble to take care
+of you over night. My, but this old house
+has room enough for as many more, and then
+a few extras.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, ma’am, but I think we’d better
+go back,” said Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“Fiddlesticks and fiddledeedee! ’Twon’t
+make a mite of bother to us to keep you over
+night. And I vow I just thought of it! I
+want you to stay and try Hannah’s waffles
+for breakfast&mdash;waffles with maple syrup, of
+course.”</p>
+
+<p>At that Poke sighed, audibly and longingly.
+Step grinned, and the Trojan laughed outright.
+Sam, though, was serious.</p>
+
+<p>“We really ought to be starting. If only
+those other fellows were here&mdash;&mdash; But how
+does it look, Lon? Any signs of clearing
+up?”</p>
+
+<p>Lon, who had just returned from a weather
+observation from the porch, shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“No; closin’ in thicker’n ever. And rainin’
+to beat the cars!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[232]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What did I tell you!” cried Mrs. Grant
+triumphantly. “Of course you’ll stay here
+all night. The traveling now would be
+awful.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wal, ma’am, that depends on what you’re
+used to,” Lon remarked calmly. “Old Noah,
+now, he might say this was jest layin’ the
+dust nice and comfortable. Or a hornpout
+might call it pretty fair goin’. But for folks
+that ain’t had sich advantages of experience
+or nat’ral capacity&mdash;wal, I guess it’s safe to
+figger they would call the travelin’ jest about
+awful, as you was sayin’, ma’am.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we ought to go back,” Sam insisted.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I reckon we ought,” Lon agreed,
+but with no heartiness.</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense!” declared Mrs. Grant.</p>
+
+<p>Sam went to a window, and peered out.
+He saw nothing to cheer him, and turned
+back, with an anxious frown on his face.</p>
+
+<p>“What in the world can be keeping Varley
+and the Shark? And where can they have
+strayed?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, they ought to be along presently,”
+Mrs. Grant comforted. “Two able-bodied,<span class="pagenum">[233]</span>
+wide-awake boys won’t come to harm in
+Sugar Valley.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, ma’am,” said Sam mechanically, but
+his expression of anxiety did not lessen. The
+afternoon was wearing away. In an hour or
+two more the light, not too strong now, would
+be fading; and the night promised to be as
+black as one’s hat. And, meanwhile, the
+Shark and Varley ought to be turning up!</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t come to harm,” Mrs. Grant
+repeated emphatically. “But, all the same,
+they ought to be here. Just wait a minute,
+though.”</p>
+
+<p>Out of the room she hurried, and, presently,
+there was the call of a telephone bell from
+the hall. Sam impatiently awaited the results.
+There was a considerable delay. Evidently
+Mrs. Grant was talking with more than
+one of her neighbors over the wire.</p>
+
+<p>When she came back to the living-room,
+her expression bore a trace of perplexity.</p>
+
+<p>“I do declare, but it’s amazing queer! Nobody,
+up the road or down, has seen anything,
+or heard anything, of those two boys. And I
+did suppose that they’d put in somewhere, to
+wait for a let-up in the rain. But everybody<span class="pagenum">[234]</span>
+along here is on the line, and I’ve called ’em
+all, and nothing comes of it.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid
+something’s gone wrong,” he said. “Varley’s
+sort of a tenderfoot, and the Shark&mdash;well, he’s
+posted well enough, but he’s as likely as not
+to get to figuring on something, and then how
+can you tell what he’d do, or not do?”</p>
+
+<p>Step spoke sharply. “Say, there’s the river!
+It must be high, and if either or both of them
+fell in&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>He had no need to finish the sentence.
+Mrs. Grant uttered an exclamation; the boys
+moved uneasily; even Lon seemed to be impressed
+by the suggestion.</p>
+
+<p>“Great Scott, but we’d ought to thought o’
+that sooner! Any boys is footless, sometimes,
+and if you’d tried to pair up a queer mated
+couple, you couldn’t ’a’ picked a more uncertain
+combination o’ performers than the Shark
+and that Varley lad’d make.”</p>
+
+<p>“That&mdash;that’s so, Lon,” Sam agreed heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant took the floor again. “Don’t
+get flustered! I’ve got an idea. Wait, everybody,
+till I see how it can be worked.”</p>
+
+<p>Once more she hurried into the hall, and<span class="pagenum">[235]</span>
+again there were sounds to indicate that she
+was busy at the telephone. Ten minutes
+passed&mdash;and to Sam they seemed to be very
+dragging minutes&mdash;before she returned, and
+addressed him.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ve made a good beginning on the
+idea, all right. I’ve called up your folks in
+town, young man, and I’ve had a talk with
+your mother. She understood things&mdash;I knew
+she would, for I guess she’s a good, sensible
+woman, seeing the sort of son she’s got. And
+she saw at once what an awful trip back
+you’d have. And she said I could keep you
+over night, and she’d call up all the other
+mothers and let ’em know you were all right.
+And so that part of it’s fixed. Now we come
+to the next part. You’re so uneasy about
+those strayaways that you’d be hopping
+around like corn in a popper if you couldn’t
+go hunting ’em. And I guess I’d be hopping,
+too, if you weren’t trying to find ’em. For
+they ought to have shown up long ago. And
+with Mr. Grant to help, and the hired man&mdash;why,
+we ought to be able to know something
+mighty quick. So, if that’s your idea, too,
+and if you’re ready&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[236]</span></p>
+
+<p>“If!” Sam shouted, and sprang to his feet.
+“If? Why, ma’am, I’ve been aching to go
+for the last hour!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess you ain’t lonesome in that,”
+said Mrs. Grant briskly.</p>
+
+<p>The other boys, and Lon and Mr. Grant, for
+that matter, had risen almost as quickly as
+Sam himself.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant looked the group over, and
+nodded approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>“No; there ain’t a lagger in the lot,” she
+said with conviction. “And there’s just one
+thing I don’t like about it; and that is that
+Hannah and I can’t go along with you.”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[237]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE HOUSE OF REFUGE</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Paul Varley was sorely shaken by his
+plunge into the depths of the ancient cellar.
+He struck its floor so heavily, indeed, that
+the breath seemed to be driven from his
+body.</p>
+
+<p>For a little he lay, motionless and half
+stunned. Then, his brain clearing, and, be
+it said, his general sense of numbness giving
+place to a number of distinct aches and pangs,
+he groaned, raised himself on an elbow, sat up,
+and tried to peer about him.</p>
+
+<p>The movements had accentuated the pains.
+Paul groaned again. Even at that moment,
+though, the greatest of his troubles was the
+gloom in which he found himself.</p>
+
+<p>Except for the pale patch of light above his
+head, indicating the break in the flooring of
+the room he had first entered, everything
+was in darkness; not an even darkness, but<span class="pagenum">[238]</span>
+patchy, lumpy, with weird suggestions of
+shadowy and grotesque shapes.</p>
+
+<p>Experimentally Paul drew up a knee, and
+found that the joint was in working order.
+He stretched out his arms. One of them was
+lame and sore, but he appeared to have escaped
+broken bones. Encouraged slightly, he
+tested his other leg, closing the test with a
+vigorous kick. His foot encountered an obstacle,
+and a voice spoke in the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>“Hi there! What do you think you’re
+doing?”</p>
+
+<p>It was a startled voice, and a wrathful
+voice. The sound of it gave Paul an instant
+of dazed bewilderment. His wits were
+working, but he hadn’t recalled the circumstance
+that he was not alone in his misadventure.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” he gasped. “Oh&mdash;oh, you’re there,
+then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Naturally!” The Shark’s tone was no
+milder than before.</p>
+
+<p>“And&mdash;and are you hurt?”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! What do you suppose?”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;but are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“There are some statements,” said the<span class="pagenum">[239]</span>
+Shark grimly, “which should not need to
+be made. That’s one of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m mighty sorry. I&mdash;I ought to have
+known.”</p>
+
+<p>The contrition in Varley’s tone had its
+effect.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh!” grunted the Shark, but less
+aggressively. “Huh! Certain causes are
+bound to produce certain results. I’m hurt&mdash;yes.
+I’m all banged up. But thank the
+stars! the worst didn’t happen. I haven’t
+broken ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your legs, you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; my glasses!” snapped the Shark.
+“I’m like a bat if anything happens to
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. But how about the rest of
+you&mdash;the legs and arms, I mean?”</p>
+
+<p>There was a brief pause, as if the Shark
+might be taking account of stock, so to speak.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m lame in one foot or ankle&mdash;can’t
+be sure which,” he reported. “And I’m sore
+in one shoulder&mdash;must have landed on it.
+Otherwise, though, I guess I’m all right. I&mdash;ugh!
+Say, that hurt!”</p>
+
+<p>By hearing rather than by sight Varley<span class="pagenum">[240]</span>
+knew that the Shark was getting upon his
+feet. He followed the example; also he
+imitated the exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>“Ouch! Whew! Say, I’ve got my troubles,
+too.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment’s silence; then Varley
+spoke again:</p>
+
+<p>“It’s queer&mdash;I don’t know what’s the
+matter, but I&mdash;I’m sort of dizzy, and&mdash;and
+choking, and&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s getting me, too,” the Shark agreed.
+“Hold on, though! I’ve got an idea.”</p>
+
+<p>There was the faint click of the catch of a
+metal match-box. Then a tiny flame showed.
+By its feeble light Varley made out what were
+the vague shapes that had seemed like heavier
+shadows, piles of old barrels and boxes, the
+usual accumulation of odds and ends in a
+cellar. Then the sickly flame died down.</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! That’s it, fast enough,” said
+the Shark. “Bad air&mdash;like the air in a well
+or a cave that’s been closed up. Match won’t
+burn in it. Guess we’d better get out.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley was beginning to have difficulty in
+breathing.</p>
+
+<p>“Great Scott, but I&mdash;I never was in such a<span class="pagenum">[241]</span>
+place!” he panted. “So close&mdash;so stuffy&mdash;so
+sour&mdash;so&mdash;so&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! Bet you there hasn’t been a window
+or door of this cellar opened in my time
+or yours. And not nearly enough air’d seep
+in to keep it sweet. And as for getting out&mdash;well,
+I guess we’d best go the way we came.”</p>
+
+<p>With that he put his hands above his head,
+and groped for the edge of the broken flooring.
+Luckily, the ancient cellar was not deep.
+The Shark failed to get a grip, but Varley,
+who was taller, succeeded where he failed.</p>
+
+<p>“Give me a leg up,” Paul directed, and
+the Shark obeyed. The effort was painful.
+Plucky fellow though he was, he couldn’t
+quite repress a groan. Varley uttered another,
+and another, as he raised himself;
+bettered his hold on the ragged ends of the
+boards; found them fragile as well as ragged;
+tore away fragments of the rotten wood;
+gained the stouter support of a beam, which
+appeared still to be sound; called upon the
+Shark for renewed and redoubled effort;
+exerted all his waning strength, and, at last,
+slowly and with difficulty, drew his body to
+the comparative safety of the floor.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[242]</span></p>
+
+<p>Apparently most of the remaining boards
+were still sound enough to support his weight,
+though they creaked dismally, while he bent
+down and extended a helping hand to the
+Shark.</p>
+
+<p>It was a fortunate thing for the young
+adventurers that the Shark was light. Varley,
+as it was, found his work cut out for him,
+especially as both he and his companion still
+felt the effects of the foul air of the cellar.
+By dint of their utmost joint endeavors the
+Shark finally half climbed, half was dragged,
+through the opening. Then he tried to struggle
+to his knees, but pitched forward and lay
+helpless and exhausted. Varley, in almost
+as grievous plight, laid hold upon his collar
+and began to drag him toward the window.</p>
+
+<p>Experiences were crowding thick and fast
+upon the city youth, but he was rising to the
+emergency and proving the mettle that was in
+him. It was a hard task, desperately hard,
+to cover the few feet which lay between the
+gap in the floor and the wall. Varley gritted
+his teeth, and pulled and tugged at the Shark,
+and gained inch by inch. But when the
+window had been reached, he slumped upon<span class="pagenum">[243]</span>
+the floor beside his comrade, and lay there,
+panting heavily.</p>
+
+<p>Luckily the sash was still raised, and
+through the opening the fresh, damp air was
+pouring into the room. The Shark was the
+first to show its revivifying effects. He
+moved, lifted himself on an elbow. Varley,
+after a little, raised his head. The eyes of the
+two met.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark nodded solemnly. “Much
+obliged. Good work. You’re all right. I
+won’t forget it.” His voice was faint, but there
+was more than a hint of his usual crisp speech.</p>
+
+<p>With some difficulty Paul sat up. So did
+the Shark. There was a long pause, each regarding
+the other steadily. Suddenly Varley
+spoke:</p>
+
+<p>“We’re lucky&mdash;to get out of that.” He
+jerked his head in the direction of the yawning
+hole in the floor.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure!” responded the Shark. “You see
+how it was? Cellar’s been shut up tight, so
+the air goes bad. Read about such things.
+Knew something was happening to us, but it
+needed the way the match failed to burn to
+give me a hint of what it was.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[244]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I understand. But&mdash;but what next?”</p>
+
+<p>Cautiously and with a manner of not being
+over-sure of himself, the Shark stood up. He
+peered out of the window, and shook his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>“Worse than it was,” he made report.
+“Raining harder than ever. And say! I’m
+pretty wet.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley, too, got upon his feet. A glance
+through the dingy panes sufficed. The Shark
+had not exaggerated the weather conditions
+outside.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what ought we to do?” Paul inquired.
+“Pile out into it?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark shook his head decidedly. “No;
+not just yet. I’m too nearly all in. Got to
+have a chance to pull myself together and get
+my second wind.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley shivered. “This&mdash;this is a pretty
+tough place to stay.”</p>
+
+<p>“We can help things a lot.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?” Paul asked incredulously.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a fireplace yonder. We have
+matches. There’s a lot of dry stuff we can
+burn.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[245]</span></p>
+
+<p>“There’s no ‘but’ about it. We’ve got a
+roof over our heads. We can have a fire. We
+will have one, and we’ll dry off, while we wait
+a while to see if the weather doesn’t change.”</p>
+
+<p>“But the rest of the crowd? They’ll be
+wanting to start back to town.”</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t start in an open sleigh in such
+a downpour.”</p>
+
+<p>“But they won’t know where we are.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! We don’t know just where they
+are this minute, either.”</p>
+
+<p>Paul hesitated. “Why&mdash;why, if we could
+get word to ’em&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Plainly, the Shark was rapidly becoming
+himself again, for he grunted scornfully.
+“Ugh! No telephone, no message. That’s
+all there is to it. May as well take things as
+they are and make the best of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I suppose that’s so,” Paul admitted,
+ruefully. Making the best of a long deserted
+house did not appear to him to offer much of
+promise.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark limped back to the break in the
+floor. He moved with caution, and came to
+no harm. Apparently the floor was in fair
+condition except at the spot where it had given<span class="pagenum">[246]</span>
+way beneath their weight. The Shark offered
+an explanation:</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Must have been a patch of dry-rot,
+and we struck it. Happens that way
+sometimes&mdash;don’t know the reason. But they
+built for keeps, the old fellows did, and this
+old shack’ll stand nobody knows how much
+longer. Now let’s see what we can do for
+kindling.”</p>
+
+<p>Bending down, he laid hold upon one of the
+fractured boards. The wood yielded to the
+pull, and he ripped off a piece a foot or more
+in length and two or three inches across. A
+second tug yielded a slightly smaller piece.</p>
+
+<p>Varley was observing the proceedings wonderingly.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t mean to say, do you, that you
+can make a fire with that stuff?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“I can start one,” quoth the Shark. “Got
+to get something else to keep her going.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where can you get it?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark nodded at the hole in the floor.
+“Down there. Lot of junk lying around.
+Saw it while the match was flickering.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley’s face lengthened. “What! You’d
+risk it in that cellar again?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[247]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I’d risk more than that for a fire. Need
+it in my business, and need it quick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you’re not going down there,” said
+Varley with decision.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark peered at him. “Huh? I’m
+not? How you make that out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I’m going down. Look here!
+Whoever goes ought not to stay there long.
+It’ll be a case of grabbing up stuff that’ll burn
+and passing it up to the other fellow. Now,
+I’ve got longer arms and legs than you have.
+I can reach farther. When it comes to getting
+out, I can get a grip on the floor, and you can
+lend a hand from above. The air below won’t
+be good, but it’ll be no worse than it was before.
+Maybe it’ll be a little better&mdash;perhaps
+some fresh air will leak down through the
+hole. But I can work the trick, and I can
+work it better than you could, because I’m
+better built for it.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark paused in the operation of splitting
+one of the pieces of board. He blinked
+at Varley for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>“Hanged if I thought you had it in you!”
+he said frankly. “Oh, I don’t mean the
+courage&mdash;that’s common enough. I mean<span class="pagenum">[248]</span>
+the gumption&mdash;the head-piece&mdash;the sense to
+figure it out. What you say’s all true; you’re
+better built for the job. So you may do it.
+And&mdash;well, you might as well go to it.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley needed no urging. He lowered
+himself through the opening, and dropped to
+the floor of the cellar. The Shark struck <a id="BRef_248" href="#Ref_248">another
+of his precious matches</a>, and held it like
+a tiny torch to guide the forager. There was
+draft enough to make it flicker wildly, but
+the same air currents did Varley a good
+turn.</p>
+
+<div id="Ref_248" class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i255.jpg" alt="" />
+<div class="caption"><p class="center"><a href="#BRef_248">ANOTHER OF HIS PRECIOUS MATCHES</a></p></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>He told himself that there was a perceptible
+freshening of the atmosphere in the old cellar.
+The place certainly was still one in
+which he would not have cared to linger, but
+as he scrambled to a pile of rubbish, and
+caught up an armful, his breathing, though
+quickened, was not difficult. What he collected
+he could no more than guess, for the
+match flame hardly lightened the shadows.
+By feeling rather than by sight he knew that
+it was wood upon which he laid hands. Then
+the Shark had caught the load, and Varley
+was back for another, which followed the first
+through the opening. Then down shot the<span class="pagenum">[249]</span>
+Shark’s arm, and a hand closed on Paul’s
+collar.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s enough to begin with. You come
+up&mdash;while the coming’s good!”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark’s tone was gruff, but, somehow,
+Varley knew there was approval in it. With
+right good will he obeyed the order; and with
+the other’s aid he was soon back in the room.
+His hands were bleeding from sliver wounds,
+and his clothes were torn, but his spirits were
+rising rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Good work!” grunted the Shark.
+“Stuff’ll burn.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley glanced at his plunder. It included
+barrel staves, broken for the most part; short
+lengths of board; a stick or two of split fire-wood;
+all coated with dust and cobwebs,
+which had accumulated in the course of
+many years.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure it’ll burn,” he declared. “It ought
+to be as dry as tinder.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark knelt by the hearth and made a
+little pyramid of shavings, topped with bits
+of board. Then he struck another match;
+the shavings ignited; a yellow flame showed,
+and above it rose a curl of smoke.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[250]</span></p>
+
+<p>Deftly the Shark brought forward more
+wood, and added it to the pile. The flames
+spread, and so, for that matter, did the smoke,
+which belched from the fireplace into the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>“Got&mdash;got to wait for the chimney to
+warm,” gasped the Shark. “Always the way....
+Whew! but that was a smotherer!”</p>
+
+<p>A cloud of smoke had driven fairly in his
+face. Coughing, he retreated, until he could
+clear his lungs. Then he came back valorously
+and played stoker.</p>
+
+<p>The fire began to burn more vigorously, and
+the flue to do its appointed part. There was
+less smoke, and more light in the room. Varley
+made his first deliberate inspection of their
+refuge.</p>
+
+<p>The ceiling was very low; he could touch it
+by raising his hand. The walls were grimy
+and spotted. Big beams showed at the corners.
+The fireplace was a rough, but substantial,
+affair, smoke blackened. The pieces of
+furniture he had noticed on first entering
+were decrepit with age. The table lacked a
+leg; the settle sagged at one end; the chest of
+drawers was a ruin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[251]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Shark was taking off his overcoat, and
+unbuckling his high overshoes. From both
+shoes and coat steam was rising as they caught
+the heat from the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Varley followed his companion’s example.
+As he removed his shoes, he whistled softly.
+The guaranteed waterproofing had not been
+up to the requirements of such a test as it had
+undergone.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark sat down on the floor; so did
+Varley. Each clasped his hands about his
+knees, and stared at the fire. It was crackling
+merrily, but not loudly enough to drown
+the sounds of the rain dashing against the old
+house.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long pause before either spoke.
+Then said Varley, ruminatively:</p>
+
+<p>“I guess you were right&mdash;a fire does help
+things a lot. I shouldn’t have thought of it.
+Still, this is a new game for me, this knocking
+about in the wilds; and it’s an old story for
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not so very old,” corrected the Shark.
+“Had a taste of it while ago, up in the big
+woods. Time our crowd got caught in a blizzard
+we found an old shack, and took possession.<span class="pagenum">[252]</span>
+And the first thing we did was to start
+a fire. And maybe we didn’t need it! Cold?
+It was! How cold? Huh! Some of the
+fellows were talking about thirty below. No
+thermometer along, though&mdash;pity! Man
+ought to travel equipped for taking notes.
+And a good, registered thermometer’d be a
+great comfort. So’d a barometer, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, very likely.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark shook his head. “Trouble is,
+folks don’t realize the need of precision.
+They’ll make a guess at the temperature, and
+let it go at that. Bah!”</p>
+
+<p>Varley, not knowing what response to
+make, said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark resumed his staring at the fire.
+There was another pause, even longer than
+that which had gone before. Varley at last
+pulled out his watch, and uttered an exclamation
+of vexation.</p>
+
+<p>“Thunder! The thing’s stopped&mdash;must
+have been caused by that fall. What time do
+you suppose it is?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t know. Left my watch at home to-day,”
+said the Shark.</p>
+
+<p>Varley sprang up&mdash;then groaned at the<span class="pagenum">[253]</span>
+pangs he suffered as the result of his incautious
+haste of movement. He looked out of
+the window, his face lengthening.</p>
+
+<p>“Cracky! but it’s getting mighty dark!
+And the rain’s fairly coming down in buckets.
+I can’t see any distance. But unless I’m
+amazingly mistaken&mdash;say, look here, will
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark joined him.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that out there? Looks like a
+regular lake!” Paul cried.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark made deliberate inspection.
+Close to the old house was now an expanse of
+water, probably not very deep, but certainly
+of considerable area.</p>
+
+<p>“Back-water!” was the Shark’s verdict.</p>
+
+<p>“Back-water?” Paul repeated doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>“From the river. It’s over its bank at
+some low spot, and the water has spread out.
+It fills up the low places, of course, and this
+house seems to stand on a little rise. Very
+likely we’re surrounded.”</p>
+
+<p>“Cut off, you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not if we want to wade out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! Wade?” Varley did not look happy
+at the prospect.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[254]</span></p>
+
+<p>The Shark studied the scene&mdash;so far as it
+could be made out in the dim light.</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Must be getting late,” he remarked
+coolly. “Don’t know that a wading
+job would be any wetter than a walk. Still,
+would either pay? We’re all right here.
+There’s more wood for the fire to be had down
+cellar.... Um, u-m-m! Maybe it’d be
+wisest to let well enough alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“And stay here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! For a while, anyway, till the rain
+lessens, and that pond has a chance to drain
+off.”</p>
+
+<p>“But will it drain off?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody
+knows.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley deliberated for a moment. “But
+how about the rest of the crowd? What’ll
+they be thinking?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t know. I’m no mind reader.”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“But what can we do about it?” the Shark
+broke in. “We can wade out of this and be
+like two drowned rats for wetness, or we can
+stay here.”</p>
+
+<p>“All night?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[255]</span></p>
+
+<p>“If necessary. Nothing to hurt us, is
+there?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Paul reluctantly. “But I wish
+we&mdash;well, I wish we could get word to the
+others.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark grunted. Then he limped to
+the fireplace and gave the fire a poke with a
+stick. Flames shot higher, illuminating the
+room.</p>
+
+<p>“This suits me better than what’s waiting
+for us outside,” he said, and dropped to his
+old place on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Paul joined him.</p>
+
+<p>“Whew!” said the city youth, after a
+little. “Tell you, I never knew before what
+a comfort a fire could be!”</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[256]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">BLIND TRAILS</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>From closets and sheds and attics Mrs.
+Grant produced an amazing supply of rubber
+coats and boots, oilskins and sou’westers.</p>
+
+<p>“Here, now, boys, fit yourselves out,” she
+directed. “Or, if you can’t fit yourselves,
+come the nearest you can. Most of these
+things Mr. Grant has used one time or another,
+but they’ll turn water more or less.
+And looks won’t count&mdash;there’ll be nobody to
+see you. And you’ll find the other boys, of
+course, and when you do, bring ’em right here.
+And then we’ll have a good, hot supper, and
+everybody’ll feel better.”</p>
+
+<p>This was spoken bravely enough; but it
+was clear that Mrs. Grant was worried, if not
+greatly alarmed, by the absence of Varley and
+the Shark. Sam and his friends made haste
+to equip themselves. In two or three cases
+high overshoes were esteemed sufficient protection<span class="pagenum">[257]</span>
+for the feet, but the other boys were
+glad to turn to boots. Every boy found something
+in the shape of a rain-coat; for the
+downpour out-of-doors made all possible covering
+desirable. Some of the garments were
+grotesquely large for the wearers, but nobody
+made a joke of this. In fact, the club was
+quite of opinion that real work lay before the
+searchers.</p>
+
+<p>Sam noticed that while Mr. Grant sent a
+farm-hand to the barn with orders to harness
+a horse, the farmer himself proposed to accompany
+the party on foot. There was a
+little consultation on the porch.</p>
+
+<p>“We ought to scatter, of course,” Mr. Grant
+declared. “Some can scout up the road, and
+some down. Others can strike across lots to
+the sugar camp and spread out from there.
+Then, if need be, I can send down to the foot
+of the valley for news. A rig’ll be ready to
+go.”</p>
+
+<p>Nobody made answer for a moment. A
+trip to the foot of the valley would mean that
+there was reason to believe the Shark and
+Varley had fallen into the river and been
+carried down-stream.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[258]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I hope that won’t be necessary,” Sam
+said at last, unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think it will be,” Mr. Grant encouraged.
+“I’ve been figuring on this business,
+and it seems to me the chances are that
+those youngsters strayed away from the camp,
+lost their bearings, and when the rain increased
+took to any shelter they could find.
+With the weather as thick as it is, it wouldn’t
+be hard for them to miss their way. Of
+course, if they kept their heads, they’d steer
+for higher ground, knowing that sooner or
+later they’d come to a road. But boys will
+be boys&mdash;and there’s the river, of course. We
+can’t forget that.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam nodded. “We’re not forgetting it, sir.
+And as for keeping their heads&mdash;well, one of
+those fellows is a stranger to all this sort of
+thing, but the other’s as cool as they make
+’em. That’s the part that sets me worrying
+most: the Shark’s not likely to go wool-gathering
+unless he gets interested in some
+of his calculations.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’d have trouble in finding a slate to do
+his ciphering out yonder.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, the Shark wouldn’t need slates or<span class="pagenum">[259]</span>
+paper. His head’s good enough for him.
+But&mdash;but don’t you think we’d better start,
+sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Grant briskly.</p>
+
+<p>It was left to Sam, as the recognized leader
+of the club, to allot the tasks. Poke and Step
+he told off to follow the road up the valley,
+with instructions to make inquiries at each
+house on the way. The Trojan and Herman
+Boyd were to scout down the road. Mr. Grant
+went with Lon, Orkney and Sam himself to
+the sugar camp.</p>
+
+<p>The tramp across the fields gave plenty of
+evidences of the rapidity with which the thaw
+was progressing. The lowlands were fairly
+afloat, and the line of march led through pools,
+some of which were more than ankle deep.</p>
+
+<p>Arriving at the camp, Sam shouted lustily,
+but there was no response. Again heads were
+put together for a consultation. It resulted
+in a scattering of the party through the maple
+grove, each of the searchers looking for tracks
+in the melting snow.</p>
+
+<p>In this several difficulties were encountered.
+To begin with, Mr. Grant and his helpers had
+been busy about the place for some days, and<span class="pagenum">[260]</span>
+near the building footprints were only too
+numerous. Then, too, the heavy rain made
+it hard to tell fresh tracks from old. It was
+Lon Gates who suggested an improvement in
+their method of search.</p>
+
+<p>“This ain’t gettin’ us nowhere, folks. We’re
+like fellers in one o’ them mazes you read
+about, that’s jest a puzzle and bewilderment.
+Let’s get out of it, and skirmish round the
+edges o’ things. If the boys scooted off, they
+scooted somewhere; and we ought to be able
+to pick up the trail where it ain’t all tangled
+up with half a dozen others and I dunno how
+many more.”</p>
+
+<p>Following this suggestion, they made a
+circuit of the “Island.” It revealed no less
+than four trails, any one of which might be
+the one they sought.</p>
+
+<p>One led down the valley; two others toward
+the river; the fourth headed up-stream. With
+the drive of the rain sharp outlines had been
+obliterated.</p>
+
+<p>Lon studied the impressions closely.</p>
+
+<p>“I ain’t no Apache tracker, and I dunno’s
+it would help things much if I was; but if
+you want my guess, it’s that more’n one feller<span class="pagenum">[261]</span>
+went this way.” He nodded at a trail leading
+toward the river.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Grant inclined to believe that the
+down-valley trail was more promising. The
+boys hesitated, frankly unable to form an intelligent
+opinion.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we can try both,” said the farmer.
+“I’ll take this chap”&mdash;he nodded at Orkney&mdash;“and
+you two can go the other road.”</p>
+
+<p>Nobody else had a better plan to offer. Mr.
+Grant and Orkney plodded off down the valley,
+and Lon and Sam headed for the river.</p>
+
+<p>For a little way the marks they followed
+were fairly plain. That is, it was quite evident
+that one or more persons had passed that
+way, though how long before was pure guesswork.
+Then, presently, they came to a low,
+swampy tract; and here among hummocks
+and pools and dense patches of bushes the
+trail lost itself.</p>
+
+<p>“No use, Sam!” Lon growled, as he stumbled
+over a root, and barely escaped a fall.
+“If those two young idiots were steering for
+anything in partic’lar, it’d be the river.
+Come on! We’ll try for a short cut.”</p>
+
+<p>With that he broke through the thicket,<span class="pagenum">[262]</span>
+and Sam pressed after him. In a few minutes
+more they were on the bank of the stream,
+peering eagerly about them.</p>
+
+<p>So heavy was the pouring rain that it was
+hardly possible to make out clearly the fringe
+of trees along the opposite side of the river.
+The swift current was racing along, its surface
+dotted with masses of ice and now and then a
+floating log.</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Gettin’ up, Sam, gettin’ up this
+brook is!” quoth Lon. “And somebody up-river’s
+losin’ his cord-wood. And I say now&mdash;jest
+look at that, will ye?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam looked. He made out the object at
+which Lon was pointing, but at first was uncertain
+what it might be.</p>
+
+<p>“Chicken coop,” Lon explained. “And
+that thing bobbin’ up and down yonder’s a
+packin’ case, or I miss my guess. Bet you
+they’re havin’ doin’s up above!”</p>
+
+<p>Sam was doing his best to master every
+feature of the scene; but most of all he was
+seeking traces of his missing friends.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t see anything&mdash;anything of the
+boys,” he complained. “I don’t believe they
+came this way.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[263]</span></p>
+
+<p>Lon grinned wrily. “Don’t see why they
+should ’a’ wanted to, if they had the wits they
+was born with. And if we’ve got ours left,
+there ain’t no jest cause and impediment why
+we shouldn’t move on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Which way?”</p>
+
+<p>Lon considered briefly. “My notion is we
+might as well go back to the camp, and pick
+up another of the trails. There’s nothin’ to
+show that those fellows strayed here. But
+what in time made ’em drift away from the
+rest of the crowd, anyway?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam couldn’t offer reasonable explanation.
+Lon grunted:</p>
+
+<p>“Ugh! Been a boy myself, and had the
+benefit of your society, Sam, to keep my hand
+in, but hanged if I can make out why boys’ll
+do things that wouldn’t get a vote at an
+election in a lunatic asylum! But that ain’t
+gettin’ us nowhere or nohow. Let’s go back!”</p>
+
+<p>They splashed through the puddles, plowed
+through the snow where it still lay deep,
+broke a way through the swampy thickets.
+Both, it may be, were in hopes of seeing Mr.
+Grant and Orkney at the camp, but nobody
+was in sight near the building.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[264]</span></p>
+
+<p>Lon now turned attention to the trail leading
+up the valley.</p>
+
+<p>“I dunno’s this is more promisin’, but I
+can’t say it’s any less. Maybe it’s fresher&mdash;must
+say, though, they all look a lot alike to
+me. And when you don’t know anything
+about a thing, why&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo!” Sam broke in. “Here comes
+Orkney!”</p>
+
+<p>Tom was hurrying along at the best pace
+he could make in his big, borrowed rubber
+boots. There was a look of anxiety on his
+face, but he spoke quietly when he joined
+Sam and Lon.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Grant told me to look you up. No;
+I’ve no news&mdash;that is, we didn’t find anything.
+But when we got a look at the river,
+Mr. Grant decided he’d send his man down to
+the foot of the valley at once. So he made a
+short cut for the house, and I started to hunt
+you up. I’ll work with you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then&mdash;&mdash;” Sam began unsteadily.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t jump to the conclusion that Mr.
+Grant thinks Varley and the Shark have been
+carried down-stream. Only the river is a lot
+higher than he expected to find it, and the<span class="pagenum">[265]</span>
+current’s swifter. So he is going to send his
+man down to the bridges. But he thought it
+might be well for you to scout the other way.
+I’ll help. I suppose he’ll follow us later.”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! Can’t be much later if he means
+to ketch up with us before dark,” Lon observed.</p>
+
+<p>There was point to the remark. The
+gloomy afternoon was shading into a twilight
+which gave promise of a pitchy night
+to follow. The rain still fell in undiminished
+volume. At any other time Sam might
+have laughed at the picture made by his companions.
+Lon’s “slicker” and Tom’s heavy
+mackintosh ran little streams in every wrinkle,
+while others dripped briskly from the brims
+of their head-gear.</p>
+
+<p>“Come on!” Sam said impatiently.</p>
+
+<p>This time they were on the right trail,
+though, of course, none of the three could
+know it. It was easily followed until it
+brought them to the point on the river bank
+where Varley and the Shark had halted for a
+time; but there they lost it. The drenched
+thickets hid footprints, and the growing darkness
+was a steadily increasing handicap.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[266]</span></p>
+
+<p>Lon frowned in perplexity. “I swan, but
+I don’t like this!” he declared. “This
+river’s practically bank full and sloppin’
+over. Look there!” He pointed to a little
+stream which was finding its way across a
+low spot on the shore. “This is goin’ to be
+jest one big frog pond before long, or I’ll eat
+my hat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s go a little farther, anyway!” Sam
+urged.</p>
+
+<p>“With you there, Sam!” cried Lon readily
+enough.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course&mdash;only thing to do,” said Orkney
+curtly.</p>
+
+<p>They went on, following the bank. As a
+matter of fact, the footing there was better
+than it was at a greater distance from the
+stream; for here was one of the low-lying,
+swampy patches, which were actually lower
+than the dike-like ridge along the river. At
+the best, though, progress was slow. There
+were tangles of brush; there were gullies,
+now turned into channels for the water; there
+were spots where the snow had given place to
+a sticky and treacherous mire.</p>
+
+<p>Now and then one or the other of the<span class="pagenum">[267]</span>
+searchers shouted lustily. It can hardly be
+said that an answer was expected, but after
+each hail there was a halt, in which the three
+strained their ears. Perhaps this was because
+their eyes could pierce the gloom for but a
+little way.</p>
+
+<p>How far this slow and difficult march continued
+it would have been hard for any of
+the little party to estimate. They might
+have covered a mile; it might not be a half-mile.</p>
+
+<p>Lon, who was in the lead, suddenly pulled
+up.</p>
+
+<p>“Boys,” he said, “I hate to give up, but is
+there any use holdin’ on longer? It’s gettin’
+powerful dark; the rain’s wuss than ever;
+we dunno but Varley and the Shark are this
+minute toastin’ their toes by Mis’ Grant’s fire.
+Besides, we’ve got to have lanterns if we’re
+goin’ to poke around this way. ’Tain’t altogether
+a question now of findin’ somebody
+else; it’s gettin’ to be a question o’ keepin’
+ourselves from gettin’ lost. What say, Sam?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam hesitated, glancing at Orkney. What
+Lon had said was true enough. Still, he was
+extremely reluctant to abandon or even to<span class="pagenum">[268]</span>
+interrupt the hunt. Orkney, too, appeared
+to be of this opinion, if Sam interpreted
+rightly the look on his face.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Lon,” Sam began doubtfully; “of
+course&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There he broke off, abruptly; clapped a hand
+to his ear; bent forward, listening eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that sound? Catch it? Something
+mighty queer about it.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam’s voice had been shaking with excitement.
+Orkney’s answer was not free of the
+same note:</p>
+
+<p>“I hear it. I&mdash;I never heard anything
+else just like it. ’Tisn’t just like a rustle,
+or a rumble, or&mdash;or I don’t know what to
+call it. But I make it out fast enough!”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! So do I&mdash;now,” said Lon sharply.</p>
+
+<p>The sound, by this time, was clearly to be
+distinguished from the steady and monotonous
+beat of the rain, and from the grating of ice
+floes in the river and the splash of waves on
+the bank. In a way it suggested the approach
+of a heavy train&mdash;and a train coming
+on at high speed.</p>
+
+<p>Lon’s arm shot out. His hand closed on
+Sam’s arm.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[269]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Come on!” he shouted to Orkney.
+“Hustle for all you’re wuth!”</p>
+
+<p>The boys were close behind him as he
+crashed through the bushes, straight away
+from the river. They ran as for their lives,
+while the rumbling sound grew in volume.
+They splashed through a pool, the water of
+which came to their knees. They crossed a
+little ridge, waded another small pond, gained
+higher ground. Here were some trees of considerable
+size, and Lon paused an instant as
+if meditating taking shelter among them.</p>
+
+<p>The rumbling now had grown to a roar, in
+which the other sounds of the storm were lost.
+And whatever was causing it was drawing very
+near the spot where the three stood. Lon
+peered hard up the valley, then turned toward
+the trees.</p>
+
+<p>“May be a climbin’ job!” he sang out.
+“Look lively, both of you! What’s comin’
+is goin’ to be a-plenty, and it’s ’most here.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam, too, had been making swift observation,
+and his eye had caught something which
+had escaped Lon’s vision. A patch of light,
+faint, glimmering, half hidden by intervening
+branches&mdash;so much he made out. Then it<span class="pagenum">[270]</span>
+was his turn to shout, “Come on&mdash;quick!”
+He broke into a run, and with Tom and
+Lon at his heels hurried toward the light,
+which, feeble though it might be, was like a
+friendly beacon.</p>
+
+<p>The rumbling roar was thunderous as they
+burst into a clearing and made out the dim
+mass of a building, from which the light
+glimmered. Instinctively they dashed for the
+door. Lon tore desperately at the boards
+which barred it, but Tom and Sam turned to
+the window. From the lips of each burst an
+exclamation of amazement.</p>
+
+<p>By the light of the fire on the hearth they
+made out two figures. They recognized the
+missing pair. Both Varley and the Shark
+appeared to have been dozing on the floor,
+and just to have been awakened by the ominous
+tumult without; for the one was starting
+to his feet, and the other, on hands and
+knees, was peering dazedly through his spectacles
+at the window.</p>
+
+<p>But this was a time for swift action and
+not for pause for inquiries. Lon, abandoning
+the door, sprang to his companions. He
+caught Sam, and swung him to the ledge of<span class="pagenum">[271]</span>
+the window, which still luckily was open;
+seized Tom and raised him to the same position
+of comparative safety. Then as the boys
+dropped to the floor of the room, he climbed
+with all speed after them. Sam, turning, laid
+hold on his arm, dragging him over the ledge,
+just as the thunder seemed to be rolling all
+about them, and just as a wave, palely crested
+with white foam, went swirling down the
+valley, crashing viciously on the foundations
+of the old house and rising to the top of the
+stout masonry.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[272]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE RISING FLOOD</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>There was the briefest of exchanges of
+greetings between the friends thus unexpectedly
+reunited.</p>
+
+<p>“What on earth are you two doing here?”
+Sam demanded. “Haven’t you any notion
+of the worry you’ve made for everybody?”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Mind where you’re going!” the
+Shark cautioned. “Hole in the floor. We
+broke through. Rest of it’ll hold, I guess,
+but I wouldn’t stamp hard.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam checked his advance in time. He
+glanced curiously at the fractured boards, at
+which the Shark pointed.</p>
+
+<p>“Fell through, did you? Well, it looks as
+if you did. But I say! What did you crawl
+in here for, anyway?”</p>
+
+<p>Before the Shark could answer, Lon spoke.
+He had remained at the window, and was
+studying as best he might the swift tide pouring
+down the valley.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[273]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Boys, one o’ them dams up-river must ’a’
+gone out! That was the first wave of the
+rush that ’most caught us. There’s a lot o’
+water still comin’ along, but ’tain’t quite’s
+high as ’twas. And so, lookin’ at things by
+and large, I guess it was mighty lucky that
+we happened in jest as we did. If nothin’
+more gives way up above, we ain’t likely to
+be any wuss off than we are now; and when
+things get kind o’ drained off, as you might
+say, we can toddle on. Meanwhile”&mdash;here
+he turned and glanced at the fire&mdash;“meanwhile,
+that heatin’ contraption looks amazin’
+good to me.”</p>
+
+<p>Varley threw on some more wood. Sam
+and Orkney, and then Lon, gingerly skirted
+the hole in the floor and took their places at
+the edge of the hearth. Lon stripped off his
+dripping rubber coat; Sam and Orkney followed
+the example. The Shark watched these
+proceedings with a certain grim approval, but
+suddenly his brow clouded.</p>
+
+<p>“See here, you fellows! You were hunting
+for us, as if you thought we were lost?”</p>
+
+<p>It was half question, half accusation. Sam
+answered curtly:</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[274]</span></p>
+
+<p>“We certainly thought you were.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh!” The Shark’s tone was scornful.</p>
+
+<p>“If you had to wander off, why didn’t you
+go back to the Grants’ house?”</p>
+
+<p>“Had something better to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Here?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark hesitated. “Why&mdash;why, not
+exactly here. We were looking for something.
+We found it. Then we happened to see this
+house. It was raining pitchforks, and we decided
+to come in out of the wet, and wait for
+a break. And being here, we made ourselves
+as comfortable as we could. You’d have done
+the same thing, wouldn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“What did you suppose we’d think when
+you didn’t turn up?”</p>
+
+<p>“You ought to have known we could take
+care of ourselves.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam checked the hot retort that was on his
+lips. After all, “Safety First” was a sound
+rule in the case of words as well as acts. A
+quarrel would benefit nobody.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Shark,” he said quietly, “we feared
+you might have met an accident of some sort,
+and if you had, we wanted to help you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Course you would!” cried the Shark, at<span class="pagenum">[275]</span>
+once mollified. “And we did have an accident&mdash;little
+one, that is. Geeminy! if you’d
+seen us go kerflop through the floor! Patch
+of boards just rotted out, and we had the luck
+to strike it.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam’s eyes ranged the room. “Old-timer,
+this house,” he remarked.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s very old,” Varley put in. “We’ve
+tried to look it over, but it was too dark to see
+much. Still, we could make out that evidently
+nobody has lived here for years.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon, too, had been making observations.
+“Boys,” he said, “if I ain’t way off the track,
+this is jest the plummest oldest house anywhere
+in these parts. It’ll be the old Dominie
+Pike place, or I’m a hornpout!”</p>
+
+<p>“The Dominie Pike place?” Orkney
+echoed.</p>
+
+<p>“Yep. His house Mis’ Grant was tellin’
+us about&mdash;the last one he built.”</p>
+
+<p>Orkney moved away from the fire. Very
+slowly he made a circuit of the room, inspecting
+it with manifest interest, so far as the uncertain
+light permitted.</p>
+
+<p>Sam went to the window. The rain was
+still falling heavily; water surrounded the<span class="pagenum">[276]</span>
+house, but the rapidity of the current appeared
+to have lessened. As well as he could determine,
+the top of the foundation was just
+above water.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile Lon was adding to the fire. He
+caught the eye of Sam, as the latter turned
+back from the window, and winked meaningly.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothin’ like makin’ yourself to hum,” he
+remarked, “and that there blaze does go to the
+right spot&mdash;no, to the right spots, by ginger!
+for those clothes o’ mine must ’a’ been leakin’
+all over. My notion is, we’re mighty lucky
+to be right here this minute. Tell you a
+house comes in mighty handy when you need
+one. By the way, Varley”&mdash;he paused briefly&mdash;“by
+the way, I s’pose these boys told you
+how once this crowd was amazin’ glad to put
+up at old Calleck’s shack.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve heard something about it,” said Paul,
+“but not the whole story.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon was grinning reminiscently. “Like this
+case it was, some ways&mdash;other ways ’twa’n’t.
+Blizzard caught us that time, and now it’s a
+flood. Both times, though, we needed fire
+and a roof&mdash;generally do in these parts, ’less
+it may be for a month or so in summer. So<span class="pagenum">[277]</span>
+old Calleck’s ruin seemed mighty good to us.
+This house’s a reg’lar palace ’longside of it.
+But what’d you expect? Old Calleck was a
+queer coot, that went away from other folks to
+build a place in the woods, while Dominie
+Pike cleared his place in the woods to kind o’
+encourage other folks to come in and settle.
+And some folks do say this must be jest the
+spot where the Dominie and the Indian had
+their big run-in. But then likely’s not you’ve
+all heard that yarn.”</p>
+
+<p>“We haven’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell us!”</p>
+
+<p>“Fire ahead!”</p>
+
+<p>Lon grinned again. No doubt he was well
+pleased to see his plan to draw the boys’
+thoughts from their plight bearing results.</p>
+
+<p>“Wal, way the story’s handed down’s
+about like this: The Dominie was an explorer,
+and he worked in here ahead of the settlers.
+But for all he knew the ways of the woods, he
+was plumb lost when he came to Sugar Valley.
+And one reason he’d missed his bearin’s was
+that for two-three days he’d been kinder bothered
+by a notion somebody was doggin’ his
+track. Funny part was, he couldn’t be sure&mdash;that<span class="pagenum">[278]</span>
+is, he couldn’t get a squint at the critter
+he sensed was after him. And, bein’ the
+man he was, the Dominie didn’t let the huntin’
+go all on one side. He turned to and hunted
+the hunter, which was what we’d call a sporty
+proposition, but helped to mix him up.
+Course, if he hadn’t been bothered, he could
+’a’ found the road back; but bein’ a lot bothered,
+he was as good as lost, for the time bein’.
+And so one night he was bivouackin’ out
+in the open, right along here, I guess; and
+bunkin’ close to a big tree and keepin’ one eye
+open and maybe both ears listenin’&mdash;well, after
+a while, he was surer than ever that t’other
+party was mighty clost. Now, the Dominie
+wasn’t the citizen to make trouble walk its
+legs off comin’ to meet him. He started for
+the half-way point or better, with his old flintlock
+primed and ready to do business. There
+was a big moon, and when he came to a nat’ral
+meadow, he could see ’most as plain as day.
+And all of a sudden he did see something.
+An Injun was stealin’, stealthy like, out of the
+opposite edge of the woods. Just as the brave
+cleared the cover, though, something else shot
+like a growlin’ streak off the limb of a tree,<span class="pagenum">[279]</span>
+and in a jiffy there was the pootiest Injun-panther
+fight you ever heard of.</p>
+
+<p>“The Dominie’s gun jumped to his shoulder&mdash;that
+was what you’d call instinctive, I
+guess. Then he run forward. Way things
+were, he didn’t feel like wastin’ powder and
+ball&mdash;took time, remember, to charge up them
+old shootin’ irons. Then something mighty
+queer happened.</p>
+
+<p>“The big cat was chain lightnin’, but that
+Injun wa’n’t so slow himself. He’d half
+ducked the panther’s spring, though he’d
+caught a clawin’ doin’ it; and the cat had
+overshot, as you might say, and was crouchin’
+for a second spring when it sighted the Dominie.
+For about a second it was a three-cornered
+puzzle, with the Dominie with his gun
+at his shoulder, and the Injun trainin’ his artillery
+for action&mdash;yes, he had a gun, too&mdash;and
+the panther switchin’ its tail and makin’
+up its mind whether it’d jump for the white
+man or the red. And the brave’s gun was
+a-swingin’ as if he wa’n’t quite clear whether
+he’d better pot the brute or the white man.
+Now seein’ these things, as the Dominie seen
+’em, there’s some folks as ’d kept that Injun<span class="pagenum">[280]</span>
+covered, anyhow, sayin’ as how the scrap was
+his to begin with. But that wa’n’t Dominie
+Pike’s way. Sot in his notions, the Dominie
+was; and one of them was that he’d rather
+shoot wild beasts than humans. So he put a
+ball through that panther’s head, and took
+his chances o’ the red brother collectin’
+his scalp. Which he didn’t&mdash;as this house,
+which the Dominie built years afterward,
+shows.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon paused, but there was a chorus of demands
+that he go on with the story. What
+did the Indian do? Why didn’t he attack
+the Dominie?</p>
+
+<p>Lon chuckled softly, perhaps more at
+thought of his success in holding the attention
+of the boys away from their predicament
+than at the continuation of the anecdote.</p>
+
+<p>“Wall, I wa’n’t there, so I can’t make no
+affidavits. But the yarn goes that when that
+Injun seen the panther drop, he laid down his
+gun like a gentleman and a good sport. And
+the Dominie laid down his&mdash;course, ’twa’n’t
+loaded, but the move showed a friendly, give
+and take spirit. And both of ’em took a step
+forward, and looked each other over in the<span class="pagenum">[281]</span>
+moonlight. Then they took another look,
+and the Dominie said something. The Injun
+said something back. His lingo was new to
+the Dominie mostly, but some words he could
+make out. And, after a long while, each got
+kind of a line on the other. Each was lost&mdash;there’s
+a funny part of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But an Indian wouldn’t be lost in the
+woods,” Sam objected.</p>
+
+<p>Lon shook his head. “Wrong there, Sam.
+This Injun was lost. Course, if he hadn’t
+been bothered, and if his grub held out, he’d
+have worked his way back; but, as ’twas, he
+was a stray from the country he knew. So
+he and the Dominie, once makin’ friends,
+could hit it out fine, both bein’ in the same
+box. And they did hit it out. Dominie Pike
+allers got along fust rate with the Injuns, anyhow.
+But it was while he was connivin’ with
+this special Injun that he got acquainted with
+Sugar Valley and decided to move in and settle
+permanent.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom Orkney spoke in the incisive fashion
+he had. “That story in the Dominie’s diary,
+Lon?”</p>
+
+<p>“Reckon so. Not that I ever saw the book,<span class="pagenum">[282]</span>
+though&mdash;remember, don’t you, what Mis’
+Grant told us about its gettin’ lost?”</p>
+
+<p>“I remember,” said Tom.</p>
+
+<p>Lon put another stick on the fire. “How’s
+the supply of fuel?” he inquired. “And
+where might the wood-pile happen to be?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll show you,” cried Varley; and, eager
+to bear his full part, began to lower himself
+through the hole in the floor. There was the
+sound of a loud splashing, and in an instant
+Paul, drenched to the knees, was scrambling
+back.</p>
+
+<p>“Cellar’s flooded!” he shouted excitedly.
+“Water’s almost up to the floor beams!”</p>
+
+<p>“’Twould be, of course,” said Lon coolly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we should have thought of that,”
+Sam agreed. “Wait a minute, though, fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>Again he went to the window, and peered
+out. The darkness was intense; the rain continued
+to fall heavily. It was largely guesswork,
+but his impression was that there had
+been a slight rise in the water about the house
+since his last observation.</p>
+
+<p>Sam turned to his companions. He was
+quite aware of the need of keeping his head.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[283]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Things are no better,” he retorted, “but
+we could hardly expect them to be.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not with this rain poundin’ down,” Lon
+put in.</p>
+
+<p>“Still, they’re not much worse,” Sam
+added.</p>
+
+<p>“And we’re safe and snug, with a roof over
+us.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark grunted. “Huh! It’s a leaking
+roof. Look there!”</p>
+
+<p>He pointed to a dark patch of moisture on
+one of the walls.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that?” Lon tried to speak lightly.
+“Guess there may be a few of the old shingles
+loose.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
+“If you look in the corner, you’ll find a small
+waterfall going. I’ve been hearing the splash
+for a quarter of an hour. I don’t care a rap,
+but I do like to have things stated accurately.
+The roof must be like a sieve!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, what are the odds?” queried
+Sam, as cheerily as he could.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark waved a hand. “I’m not kicking
+on the facts, but on the errors of statement&mdash;that’s
+all.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[284]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Well, state it to suit yourself,” said
+Sam; but the Shark did not accept the invitation.</p>
+
+<p>There was a pause in the talk, and it was a
+long pause. The drip, drip of more than one
+little stream was audible, except when the
+noises from without rose above all other
+sounds. The fall of the rain was like a steady
+drone; the wind was beginning to rise, and
+now and then a squall whipped the branches
+of an overhanging tree against the house; at
+intervals could be heard the harsh grating of
+ice against ice, as the floes went drifting by.
+Twice or thrice floating masses struck the
+house blows that made the old structure
+tremble, and then ground along the side till
+the flood carried them clear.</p>
+
+<p>Not a member of the party from Lon down
+to the Shark but was considering their situation
+and its dangers, each in his own way.
+For all the conclusion was the same: there
+was nothing for it but to remain where they
+were. If the flood rose no higher, they would
+not fare very badly. The house, ancient
+though it might be, plainly was still a strong
+structure, capable of withstanding much battering.<span class="pagenum">[285]</span>
+Lon, who broke the silence, phrased the
+opinion of the group:</p>
+
+<p>“When the old Dominie built, he built for
+keeps&mdash;no jerry work for him, I tell you!
+Big beams, heavy timbers&mdash;wood was the
+cheapest thing outdoors in his times. And
+wooden pegs to hold ’em together. Why,
+boys, I’ve seen folks tryin’ to tear down an
+old house like this one, and they pretty nigh
+had to use dynamite to unjoint the frame.
+Don’t believe that? Umph! They had to
+use a yoke of oxen, then, if that’ll suit you
+better.”</p>
+
+<p>“Either story suits us well enough,” said
+Sam; and with that the talk languished.</p>
+
+<p>Now and then one or another went to the
+window, peered out, came back, hovered over
+the fire. It was dying down now, and the
+stock of available fuel was running short.
+But already there were warnings that it would
+not be long before the fire would be put out in
+another way.</p>
+
+<p>The water in the cellar had risen to the
+level of the floor of the room. From the gap
+where the Shark and Varley had broken
+through, a pool was spreading toward the<span class="pagenum">[286]</span>
+walls. Through the door, too, a stream was
+trickling, a tiny stream at first, but steadily
+growing in volume.</p>
+
+<p>There was no way to check the rising tide,
+and the boys silently watched the water approach
+the hearth. At last it reached the
+glowing coals. There was a faint, hissing
+sound. A little puff of steam rose, gleamed
+white for an instant, faded away. A black
+border of drenched ashes was slowly widening
+and nearing the heart of the fire.</p>
+
+<p>Sam turned to the Shark. “There’s an
+upper story; there’ll be stairs, of course.
+Looked around any, have you?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark nodded. “We looked. Yes,
+there are stairs&mdash;we didn’t go up. Pretty
+dark it was.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’ll be darker now, but we’ll have to try
+’em,” said Sam quietly.</p>
+
+<p>Again the Shark nodded. “Figured it
+would come to that. So I saved this.” He
+pulled from within his jacket a piece of pine
+board. “This was dry and I guess I’ve kept
+it so. Lot of pitch in it, too. Ought to make
+sort of a torch. Wait a minute!”</p>
+
+<p>Bending forward, he thrust an end of the<span class="pagenum">[287]</span>
+piece of wood into the flame still burning at
+the back of the hearth. There was a sputter,
+a spark or two flew. Then a jet of smoke shot
+out, and a yellow tongue curled about the end
+of the pine board.</p>
+
+<p>Protecting the precious flame with his
+cupped hand, the Shark followed Sam
+through the doorway, and into the hall of
+the old house, wading through water ankle
+deep as they went. After them filed the
+others, Lon bringing up the rear.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[288]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The hallway of the ancient structure was
+curiously small in contrast with the big room
+the boys had just left. It was, indeed, little
+more than a box of an entry, with a winding
+stair in one corner, a plan of construction
+made necessary, no doubt, by the huge
+chimney in the middle of the house. In
+making the most of limited space, however,
+the designer had produced a crowded effect,
+even when the hall was bare of fittings, as it
+now was.</p>
+
+<p>With the draft created by the fire and the
+open window, the air in the room the boys
+had just left had freshened considerably; but
+the hall was full of a stale and musty odor.
+The torch burned feebly. Once it seemed to
+be on the point of being extinguished, but the
+Shark by careful nursing saved the flame.</p>
+
+<p>Sam laid hand on the old-fashioned rail of
+the stairway.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[289]</span></p>
+
+<p>“One at a time,” he said. “If there are
+any weak spots, we don’t want to tumble
+through them in a crowd. Safety First!”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure thing&mdash;Varley and I got enough of
+the other scheme!” quoth the Shark. “Go
+ahead, Sam!”</p>
+
+<p>A bit gingerly Sam began the ascent of the
+flight. The old boards creaked and groaned
+under his weight, but there was no indication
+of serious weakness in them or their supports.</p>
+
+<p>The flickering light from the torch left the
+top of the stairs in deep shadow. The explorer
+inferred rather than was certain that
+the upper hall was merely a landing by which
+one could reach the rooms on either side.
+Still holding the rail, he called out to the
+others to follow, one by one.</p>
+
+<p>Orkney gave Varley a push, and thus
+settled the order of precedence; for the Shark
+elected to be No. 3, keeping the light in the
+midst of the party. Then Lon shoved Orkney
+ahead, much as Tom had encouraged Paul,
+and made himself the rear-guard. The stairs
+groaned and creaked more dolefully than
+ever, but held firm.</p>
+
+<p>Sam, meanwhile, had edged across the landing<span class="pagenum">[290]</span>
+and into one of the rooms, the door of
+which stood open. It happened to be directly
+above the apartment they had first entered,
+and, so far as he could make out, corresponded
+with it in size, though it was still lower of
+ceiling. A gleam from the smoking pine
+stick showed that, like the room below, it had
+a fireplace.</p>
+
+<p>While the air was a trifle better than on
+the lower floor, Sam lost no time in getting
+at a window; and when the sash stuck, he
+promptly smashed a couple of the small panes.
+Incidentally, he made note that the rain was
+falling steadily.</p>
+
+<p>In this upper chamber the proofs of the
+leaks in the roof were numerous. Little
+streams were running down all four of the
+walls, against one of which, where probably
+the beams sagged, a pool a yard or more
+across had formed. Other parts of the floor,
+however, were still dry. Very few of the
+furnishings had been left in the room. The
+tall headboard of an old-fashioned bedstead
+leaned against a wall, and near the hearth
+was a heavy settle, too bulky, probably, to
+have made it worth while to go to the trouble<span class="pagenum">[291]</span>
+of removing it. It furnished a seat for Lon
+and Orkney, while Varley and the Shark
+joined Sam in the inspection of their refuge.
+This completed, the three joined the two before
+the fireplace. The Shark stuck his brand
+in a crevice between two bricks; watched its
+none too vigorous flame for a moment; stepped
+forward and extinguished it.</p>
+
+<p>“Guess we’ll economize on the illumination,”
+he said. “When this is gone, I don’t
+know where the next’ll come from. And
+who’s afraid of the dark, anyway?”</p>
+
+<p>Nobody made reply to this query. There
+was a pause; then Sam asked, a little sharply,
+if the Shark were sure his supply of matches
+was protected from the dampness. In turn,
+the question led to a reckoning of the stock
+of all the party. Orkney had a metal pocket-case,
+well filled; Lon had a score of matches
+loose in a waistcoat pocket; Sam himself
+could contribute a dozen. In this respect, at
+least, they were prepared for emergencies.
+Sam heard somebody’s sigh of relief in the
+darkness, and sympathized with it.</p>
+
+<p>Truth to tell, the adventurers were now in
+the midst of one of their most trying experiences.<span class="pagenum">[292]</span>
+The gloom of the room; the inaction;
+the forced waiting&mdash;all these things tested
+grit. For the time being, they seemed to be
+safe enough, but nobody could tell what the
+conditions might be an hour hence. The
+flood continued to rise about the old house.
+Sam’s observations from the window were
+confirmed by Orkney, who felt his way down
+the stairs, but only to return with word that
+the water was encountered half-way down the
+flight.</p>
+
+<p>Again Sam felt the responsibility which
+falls to a leader. He whispered a word in
+Lon’s ear; and Lon, good fellow that he was,
+did his best to cheer his companions. He
+racked his memory for tales of Dominie Pike
+and his exploits, and embroidered the traditions
+with his own inventions, perhaps, for
+quaint tales they were which he told of the
+pioneer days in Sugar Valley. Sam noted
+that Tom Orkney was especially interested.
+Varley, too, put an occasional question; but
+there was nothing to indicate that the Shark
+was at all attentive.</p>
+
+<p>Sam, presently, crept to the Shark’s side.
+Lon was in the midst of a yarn, and was<span class="pagenum">[293]</span>
+talking loudly; there was small danger that
+a whispered conversation would be overheard.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Shark!” Sam spoke very softly.</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? What?” The Shark’s response was
+in like tone.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been wondering&mdash;say! ought to be
+some limit to this sort of thing&mdash;rise of the
+river, I mean. What’s your notion?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pure conjecture!” Low as the reply was,
+it had a shade of testiness.</p>
+
+<p>“I know&mdash;but what’s your conjecture?
+Your line, you know&mdash;figuring&mdash;all that.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark considered briefly. “Well, I’ll
+tell you, Sam. Something’s happened.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t need to tell me that!” growled
+Sam.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t understand. I mean, something’s
+happened more than a common spring
+freshet. The rain and the melting snow filled
+the river, as I saw, and as you must have seen,
+too. But ordinarily the river takes care of
+the most of the water&mdash;the Grants spoke as if
+there’d been little trouble in other years.
+This time, though&mdash;well, you know how
+much snow there was, and how quickly it
+goes under a rain like this. And Mr. Grant<span class="pagenum">[294]</span>
+said they’d been having the storm up-stream
+a good while before it hit us. One of the
+dams must have gone out&mdash;that’d account
+for the tidal wave&mdash;if you can call it that&mdash;which
+came rushing down the valley.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see,” said Sam. “It’s reasonable.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it is&mdash;I’m telling you,” said the
+Shark simply. “Listen now, though! If
+nothing else had happened, once the crest of
+the wave had passed, we’d have seen the
+water begin to go down. Why? Because the
+natural drainage would be taking care of it.
+Pour a pitcher of water into a set-bowl, when
+the plug isn’t in the outlet, and after a few
+seconds you’ll see the level lowering. Drop
+the plug in place, and the bowl stays full.
+And I tell you, Sam, Sugar Valley is a lot
+like a big bowl.”</p>
+
+<p>“But&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark disregarded the interruption.
+“Hold on! Let me finish. There’s a plausible
+explanation of our fix. Our big bowl is
+plugged, and if it is, the plug is an ice jam.
+Remember how narrow the gorge is at the
+foot of the valley? Remember how the
+bridge piers clutter it up? Well, then!<span class="pagenum">[295]</span>
+Plain as the nose on your face! River carries
+down a lot of big chunks. They pile
+up against the bridges and wedge together.
+Then along comes a lot of logs and floating
+riffraff to fill in the cracks. That’s how you
+get your dam that’ll turn the valley into a
+big pond. The water can’t run off, so it stays
+here and keeps rising and rising.”</p>
+
+<p>“But how much longer can it keep on
+rising?”</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t say. Lack data. As I recall that
+map, though, I don’t believe we’ve seen high
+water mark yet&mdash;not by a long shot!”</p>
+
+<p>“But the dam&mdash;if there is one&mdash;&mdash;?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, they mostly use dynamite to blow
+up ice jams. So I guess it’s a question of how
+soon somebody gets to this one with a cartridge.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam groaned. The Shark put out a hand
+in the darkness and caught his arm.</p>
+
+<p>“Nobody’s fault, this fix. Couldn’t get to
+high ground after that wave came along.
+Doubt if we could have made it before that&mdash;lot
+of low places in between. Nobody to
+blame. Sensible thing to stay here. That’s
+the whole story.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[296]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I hope so,” said Sam very soberly. He
+shook off the hand, and moved to the window.
+Dark as the night was, he could not escape
+conviction that the water was still climbing
+higher and higher.</p>
+
+<p>Lon brought his story to a close, and there
+was silence in the room. It made all the
+more marked the noises without, the beat of
+the rain, the swirl of the flood against the
+house. There were other sounds, too, weird
+and mysterious, some faint and far off; others
+near at hand and still more disturbing. As
+for the house itself, it seemed to be straining
+like a ship in a storm, while it hardly needed
+a lively fancy to find in its shaking a hint of
+the trembling of a vessel’s hull under the
+pounding of big waves. Yet it was evident
+that the stout old building was withstanding
+the flood better than many a more modern
+and more lightly constructed house could
+have hoped to withstand it. Nevertheless,
+there was mighty complaint of beam and upright,
+which was not cheering to hear. Sam,
+listening and watchful, was a bit encouraged.
+The house might shake from roof to foundation,
+but it seemed to be coming to no harm.<span class="pagenum">[297]</span>
+The huge chimney, doubtless, was like a brace
+to the entire structure.</p>
+
+<p>Even if the house stood, though, there remained
+another question to be answered: How
+long would the flood continue to rise?</p>
+
+<p>The Shark plainly feared that they were
+still far from the greatest peril from this
+source. Sam had to own that the fear might
+be justified. The suggestion of an ice jam and
+ice dam at the foot of the valley could not be
+verified, of course, but it was possible to gauge
+the steady rise of the water. Sam made the
+stairs a practical register. From time to time
+he ventured down them, and regularly found
+the invading flood a little higher than before.</p>
+
+<p>The hours wore away slowly. At intervals
+some one or another of the refugees announced
+the time, striking a match ostensibly in order
+to glance at his watch, but taking remarkable
+care to save the tiny flame as long as possible.
+Everybody craved light. Lack of it was, in
+fact, the hardest part of the ordeal. Warmth,
+too, would have been welcome, but the night
+was not cold and the need of a fire was felt
+less acutely than the dispiriting effect of the
+dense darkness.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[298]</span></p>
+
+<p>Talk was intermittent. Now and again
+somebody would rouse to interest in some
+aspect of their situation, and perhaps stir his
+neighbors to join in a discussion, and Lon
+told a dozen stories; but there were half-hours
+when nobody spoke. Sam, with his sense of
+responsibility strong upon him, studied his
+companions. The Shark caused him little
+concern. Silent meditation was quite in keeping
+with the habits of the mathematical youth,
+and Sam had no reason to doubt his nerve in
+case of grave emergency.</p>
+
+<p>Varley was more puzzling. Unquestionably
+the city boy was under a greater strain
+than his comrades, because of the entire novelty
+of his surroundings. The others knew
+more or less about abandoned farmhouses, but
+such a place as the Dominie Pike homestead
+was wholly strange to Paul. Seemingly, he
+was of good courage, and his conduct won
+Sam’s approving respect.</p>
+
+<p>Oddly enough, Tom Orkney presented another
+problem. Tom ordinarily was a reticent,
+self-contained fellow; but this night he
+took a leading share in the talk. He appeared
+to be intensely interested in everything<span class="pagenum">[299]</span>
+he could learn about the old Dominie, and
+plied Lon with queries. Finally, he borrowed
+the Shark’s stump of pine wood, lighted it,
+and began a careful examination of the room.
+This finished, he restored the torch to its
+owner and guardian, who promptly extinguished
+the flame and stowed the precious
+remnant in an inside pocket of his jacket.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, found out anything?” Sam asked,
+as Tom dropped beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know&mdash;I’m not certain,” Orkney
+answered slowly. “Somehow, though, I think
+I’ve got a line or two. I believe this room
+was the Dominie’s own&mdash;his study, maybe.”</p>
+
+<p>“What! An up-stairs study?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sounds unreasonable, I’ll admit, considering
+the plain living of the old days. But
+there’s a fireplace, and it looks as if there was
+a sort of closet on each side of the chimney,
+or hiding place&mdash;I don’t know exactly what
+to call it. What makes me think so? Well,
+I can’t be sure, but I suspect there’s wood
+fitted in among the bricks and made to look
+just like them. Anyway, that’s the feel of it!”</p>
+
+<p>“The feel?” Sam asked skeptically.</p>
+
+<p>“Try it yourself. Come along&mdash;I’ll show<span class="pagenum">[300]</span>
+you,” said Orkney, and got upon his feet.
+Sam, too, rose.</p>
+
+<p>Orkney made his way back to the chimney,
+Sam following. There, under Tom’s direction,
+he groped about the brickwork, without
+arriving at any clear conclusion.</p>
+
+<p>“If I could see anything, it would be different,”
+he remarked. “But this thing&mdash;say,
+my fingers are numb, anyway! I can’t feel
+anything but clammy dampness. But what’s
+the idea you’re working on?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know&mdash;sort of a notion&mdash;a
+hunch, maybe.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a hunch?</p>
+
+<p>“It&mdash;it’s pretty vague,” Orkney confessed.</p>
+
+<p>Sam, not deeply impressed but willing
+enough that Orkney should find even such
+diversion, moved back to the window. From
+sounds which proceeded, presently, from the
+direction of the chimney he inferred that Tom
+had taken out his knife and was scratching
+away at the old mortar. After a little, however,
+he lost consciousness of this activity,
+and, indeed, of a good deal more; for he fell
+into an uneasy doze.</p>
+
+<p>Subsequently on comparing notes, the boys<span class="pagenum">[301]</span>
+had to admit, one and all, that in spite of
+their perils they caught some sleep in the
+course of the night. Probably all of them
+slept longer than they realized. Sam, at any
+rate, must have passed from doze to sound
+slumber; for when he was awakened by a
+tremendous crash there was a second or two
+in which he did not realize where he was or
+how he came to be there. The old house was
+still trembling violently from the concussion,
+as well as from a series of minor blows, as the
+object which had collided with it was carried
+along, grinding and pounding against the side
+of the building.</p>
+
+<p>In the room there was something closely
+akin to panic for a moment. Varley shouted
+wildly for help. Lon was scrambling to the
+window. Sam heard Orkney cry out, and
+caught distinctly the Shark’s shrill whistle,
+and close-following comment:</p>
+
+<p>“Whew! There’s bulk, with momentum,
+for you! Say, what was it?”</p>
+
+<p>Sam found himself peering over Lon’s
+shoulder. Certainly there was a slight lessening
+of the darkness. He could make out
+dimly a black mass drifting by.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[302]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Great Scott! but that must be one o’ them
+big barges from the brick yards!” Lon
+groaned. “Use ’em to freight the bricks
+down to the railroad, they do. But the yards
+are up above the big dam. If that’s one o’
+their boats, it means that dam has gone out
+as well as the little fellow we’ve been figgerin’
+on. Jeewhillikens! but this is a reg’lar granddaddy
+of a flood! Must be, for they haul the
+barges out winters, and the one that hit us
+must ’a’ been well up the bank. And look
+how the water’s riz, anyhow!”</p>
+
+<p>Sam looked; that is, he gazed as at a dark
+curtain, and saw a pale glimmer just discernible
+at what he estimated to be but a few
+inches below the level of the upper floor. As
+he was continuing his observations, Orkney
+plucked at his sleeve.</p>
+
+<p>“That jolt pretty nearly got to us, Sam.
+I’ve been scouting out in the hall. I couldn’t
+see much, but it looks as if the whole corner
+had been torn out of the room on the other
+side. And the house&mdash;what’s left of it, I
+mean, is askew. Floor of the hall’s tilted
+like a hillside.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam made reconnaissance for himself, and<span class="pagenum">[303]</span>
+found that Tom had by no means exaggerated
+the conditions. He returned to the room, to
+discover that Orkney was again scratching at
+the chimney. From the neighborhood of the
+window Lon spoke:</p>
+
+<p>“Boys, I dunno but we’ll have to move
+along pooty soon&mdash;water sure is climbin’ and
+climbin’. So as I hate to take a jump in the
+dark, as you might say, I guess I’ll go scoutin’
+for some road that leads higher, too. Jest you
+wait here, and I’ll let you know what I find out.”</p>
+
+<p>In a moment more they could hear him in
+the hall; but several minutes passed before he
+called out to the Shark to bring him what
+was left of the torch. The Shark obeyed;
+and, presently, there was a creak of rusty
+hinges, and Lon called out cheerily:</p>
+
+<p>“It’s all right! Attic stairs jest about
+where I cal’lated they ought to be. That’s
+enough of the light, son. Put it out and save
+the pieces till we need ’em again.”</p>
+
+<p>Then back came Lon and his torch-bearer
+to join Sam and Varley and Orkney in the
+nerve-testing task of waiting for the steadily
+rising flood to drive them from their refuge.</p>
+
+<p>How long they waited none of them knew.<span class="pagenum">[304]</span>
+To Sam it seemed to be hours and hours before
+a chance movement of his was marked
+by the splash of his foot in water. Through
+the open door a tidy little stream was pouring
+into the room from the hall.</p>
+
+<p>Now the old house was creaking and groaning,
+and without were all the noises of the
+storm, but not one of the party missed that
+splash or misunderstood its meaning.</p>
+
+<p>“Heh! Time to go, ain’t it?” Lon tried
+to speak lightly, but his tone betrayed his excitement.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it’s time,” Sam said; his voice, too,
+was shaking.</p>
+
+<p>“All right! Light up, Shark,” Lon directed.
+“You and me’ll go ahead, seein’ as
+how we know the way. Rest o’ you keep
+clost to us.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark’s torch was but an inch or two
+of blackened, resinous pine, and its flame was
+no greater than that of a toy candle. Still, it
+enabled Sam to observe Orkney digging away
+at the bricks of the chimney with furious
+haste.</p>
+
+<p>“Drop that, Tom, and come along,” he
+called.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[305]</span></p>
+
+<p>Orkney gave no heed to the summons. Instead,
+he worked more desperately than ever.</p>
+
+<p>“Give me time! I&mdash;I’m getting there!”
+he declared.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark was moving toward the door.
+The faint beams of his torch quite failed to
+reach the spot where Orkney stood. Sam had
+no notion of what Tom might be about, but
+he had strongly developed opinions on the
+unwisdom of tarrying. He strode across the
+room, grasped Orkney’s shoulder. The other
+resisted briefly. In a vague way Sam conjectured
+that he was groping about the chimney.
+Also he remembered, afterward, that Orkney
+uttered a queer little exclamation, which
+seemed to betoken satisfaction, then ceased
+his resistance.</p>
+
+<p>“Come on!” Sam urged, and Orkney
+came. Possibly Sam felt rather than saw that
+Tom was thrusting something into the protection
+of his closely buttoned coat; but what
+was of far greater immediate importance was
+the depth of the invading water, through
+which they had to wade. It was ankle-deep
+in the half-wrecked hall; it was over the
+lower step of the steep and narrow stair leading<span class="pagenum">[306]</span>
+to the attic, up which Lon and Varley already
+had passed.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark, standing at the foot of the flight
+and cherishing his feeble beacon, growled his
+opinion of those who delayed.</p>
+
+<p>“What you fellows dillydallying for?
+Think I’m a government lighthouse that’s
+bound to keep going, anyway? This thing’s
+nothing but one coal, and it’s getting to me&mdash;ouch!
+I can’t keep on holding it till daylight!”</p>
+
+<p>Sam and Orkney, thus exhorted, quickened
+their pace. But as they did so, Lon raised a
+shout, in which was a ring of jubilation:</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo, everybody! Speakin’ o’ daylight,
+I can see something that’s mighty good for
+my sore eyes. What is it, eh? Well, it’s
+where there used to be roof, and where there
+ain’t any roof left now. But in place of it
+is jest the cheerfulest patch o’ mighty nigh
+washed out dawn that ever showed over to the
+east’ard. It’s mornin’, boys, or ’twill be in a
+few shakes of a lamb’s tail. Oh, well, see for
+yourselves then, if you ain’t willin’ to believe
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark dropped his torch&mdash;it went out<span class="pagenum">[307]</span>
+with a hiss in the pool at his feet&mdash;and raced
+up the stair. Orkney and Sam dashed after
+him.</p>
+
+<p>What Lon had told them was true. An end
+of the roof was missing&mdash;carried away, perhaps,
+by the barge. And there the sky showed
+gray and dull, yet with the early dawn upon it.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt the attic was even more cheerless,
+otherwise, than the room they had just quitted,
+but that patch of light made amends for everything.
+What if the drenching rain had poured
+through the break until the place were half-afloat?
+What if here the tumult of the storm
+and of the flood were louder and more menacing
+than ever? The darkness had been the
+direst of their troubles, and now it was about
+to be ended.</p>
+
+<p>The missing segment of roof extended close
+to the floor at one end. Sam had no trouble
+in looking out. And he it was who made a
+discovery, at which he raised a cry as jubilant
+as Lon’s had been but a moment before.</p>
+
+<p>Under the gray sky the flooded river spread
+like a black lake all about them. But close
+at hand, drifting directly toward the house,
+was that which he longed most to see.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[308]</span></p>
+
+<p>“A boat! A boat!”</p>
+
+<p>His call brought his companions to his side.
+Eagerly they gazed, and joined in a chorus of
+hails to the navigators. There were two of
+these. Each had been sitting huddled on a
+thwart; each roused to activity at sound of
+human voices, and, catching up a piece of
+board, fell to paddling wildly.</p>
+
+<p>The Shark needed spectacles to improve his
+vision, yet it fell to his lot to be first to recognize
+the boatmen.</p>
+
+<p>“Jupiter Crickets! Poke and Step!” he
+gasped; and in his tone was more bewilderment
+than delight.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[309]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">WHAT BEFELL POKE AND STEP</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>It will be recalled that in the division of
+forces for the search Herman Boyd and the
+Trojan were detailed to follow the road down
+the valley, making inquiries at each house
+and seeking news of the missing Shark and
+Varley.</p>
+
+<p>This duty they performed conscientiously,
+but wholly without result.</p>
+
+<p>Nobody had seen or heard anything of the
+pair. From each house which was provided
+with a telephone the boys made report to Mrs.
+Grant and learned from her that seemingly
+the other hunters were having no better fortune.
+More than once they were advised to
+give up their task and accept shelter and refreshment;
+but they declined the invitations
+and resumed their march. What is more, they
+did not restrict themselves to inquiries of the
+residents, but now and then made a detour
+toward the river. It was to be observed, as<span class="pagenum">[310]</span>
+they neared the foot of the valley, that the
+lowlands were flooded in many places. The
+boys agreed that their prospects of success were
+not bright, but neither was willing to turn
+back.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll keep on as far as the bridges, anyway,”
+the Trojan said. “Sam’d expect us to
+do that much.”</p>
+
+<p>Herman nodded. “He’d keep on, if he
+were here.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure he would!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, old Sam’s a sticker.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll be stickers, too: we won’t fail
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>This decided, they continued their tramp.
+And while they went splashing and sloshing
+along the road, which was by no means a poor
+imitation of a canal in places, Step and Poke,
+heading in the opposite direction, were having
+a very similar experience.</p>
+
+<p>The tall youth and his plump chum were
+quite as much in earnest as were Herman and
+the Trojan, but temperamentally were not so
+well fitted to carry out a commander’s orders
+implicitly. Besides, under the depressing
+weather conditions, Poke could hardly avoid<span class="pagenum">[311]</span>
+meditation upon the sorrows of his own lot.
+With rain driving in his face and snow water
+at times a quarter-way up the legs of his rubber
+boots, it is scarcely to be wondered that he
+tended to the pessimistic view. To tell the
+truth, Poke liked the comfortable things of
+life, and turned regretfully from the warm
+kitchens of the farmhouses at which he halted
+to ask the question, to which there was regularly
+the same answer. Nobody had seen a
+smallish boy in glasses and a larger boy who
+didn’t wear glasses.</p>
+
+<p>Trudging on, doggedly and faithfully, Poke
+relapsed into a dull silence, which at last attracted
+the attention of Step. The latter was
+not unmindful of his friend’s mood; in fact,
+he tried to show his sympathy. Ordinarily,
+the two got on famously, but now Step contrived
+to strike a jarring note.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, buck up, Poke; buck up!” he urged.
+“Luck’ll have to turn. You ought to be able
+to see that.”</p>
+
+<p>Now, this was meant in all kindness, but
+it did not fall pleasingly on Poke’s ear.
+Doubtless the fault was his own, not Step’s.</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Talk’s cheap!” he growled.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[312]</span></p>
+
+<p>Step flushed wrathfully. “Oh, well, if you
+don’t want to see, you don’t have to, you
+chump!”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! Chump, am I? Well, if I had a
+periscope-pole neck like yours I could see a
+lot of funny things, too.”</p>
+
+<p>This was personal insult, so intended and so
+received. Step pulled up short.</p>
+
+<p>“Periscope neck, eh? Well, I’d rather have
+one like that than be a human flat-iron!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke halted, too. He glared up at Step as
+savagely as Step was glaring down at him.
+Together they presented a quaint scene of
+wrath, standing there in slush to their ankles
+and with the rain running down their long
+coats in little streams. The humor of the
+situation escaped Poke, but he was quick
+witted enough to take advantage of the circumstance
+that Step had been first to pause.
+He cut short his own delay, and took as long
+a stride as his short legs permitted.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right&mdash;be a quitter!” he said over
+his shoulder. “Anything to get out of hunting
+for Varley and the Shark, of course!”</p>
+
+<p>Step was beside him in an instant. “Quitter,
+eh?” he snarled. “We’ll see who’ll be<span class="pagenum">[313]</span>
+first to lay down his playthings in this
+game!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, then you haven’t really laid them
+down, eh?” said Poke with crafty sweetness.
+“Isn’t it too bad it looked so much like
+that?”</p>
+
+<p>Step merely gritted his teeth in reply, and
+set a pace which put Poke into a dog-trot to
+keep abreast of him.</p>
+
+<p>It was, of course, the most trivial of quarrels,
+but like some other trifles in life fated to
+have consequences out of all ratio to its real
+importance. It made both boys determined
+to go on with the hunt without much regard
+for reason. Also it brought it about that
+when in the growing darkness the flood came
+sweeping down the valley in a fine wave, Poke
+and Step were still marching along, each more
+intent upon wearing out the other than upon
+keeping keen watch for danger.</p>
+
+<p>Luckily, the roar of the approaching water
+gave even these preoccupied youths some warning.
+Luckily, too, though the road they were
+then traveling was close to the river, they
+were near a tiny hillock on which stood a
+shed such as farmers sometimes build in remote<span class="pagenum">[314]</span>
+fields to protect stock or tools. Poke
+and Step dashed for its shelter, and were well
+above the wave as it went raging down the
+valley. However, it left them on what was
+now an island, safe for the time being, but
+cut off from the shore by a hundred yards or
+more of deeply inundated swale.</p>
+
+<p>Poke clutched Step, and Step clung to Poke,
+their bickering forgotten and peace restored.
+In a moment they were as thoroughly comradely
+as Herman and the Trojan, who three
+or four miles down the valley watched, or,
+more accurately, heard the sweep of the wave
+down the stream. Chance had put the Trojan
+and his companion, at the time on the hillside,
+well above the flood level. In the faint light
+they could make out little except that the
+stream, of a sudden, was over its banks; but
+while they were pausing, uncertain what to
+do, Mr. Grant’s hired man drove up. He
+could give them no information except that
+he had been instructed to carry on the inquiry
+for the Shark and Varley at the gorge at the
+mouth of the valley. They held a short consultation,
+agreeing that the man should go on
+as far as he could, the road at this point being<span class="pagenum">[315]</span>
+well above high water mark, while the boys
+turned back. By keeping to the hillside they
+would be able to regain the Grant place, and
+on the way they could continue the search for
+traces of the missing pair.</p>
+
+<p>For Poke and Step, however, no such solution
+of their problem was possible. They
+were effectually marooned. Neither felt
+tempted to venture to swim to the shore.
+They put their heads together, debated briefly,
+and agreed that there was nothing to do but
+to make the best of the situation.</p>
+
+<p>The roof of the shed leaked abominably,
+but at one end they found a comparatively
+dry spot, and here, too, they made a discovery.
+Against the wall lay a boat, bottom up, evidently
+in storage for the winter. It was a
+home-made affair; a punt, broad, flat-bottomed,
+square-ended; built of heavy planks
+and generally so clumsy and weighty that
+they were unable to move it, though they put
+all their strength into the effort.</p>
+
+<p>“No use!” groaned Step, and now it was
+Poke who took the rôle of comforter.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t see any oars, so it doesn’t
+matter very much.... What’s that?<span class="pagenum">[316]</span>
+Don’t want to stay here all night, you say?
+Well, I don’t want to, either; but I’m not
+going to worry about it. Maybe something
+will turn up.”</p>
+
+<p>Step dismally pointed a number of very
+good reasons for doubting that anything could
+turn up to their advantage; but Poke declined
+to lose heart.</p>
+
+<p>“I know, I know!” he said. “Luck’s
+against us just now&mdash;guess I’m a regular
+Jonah, anyway. But it’ll have to turn&mdash;say!
+I’m not sure but it has turned.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?” Step demanded skeptically.</p>
+
+<p>Poke waved a hand at the dark flood.
+“Suppose that had caught us. This is no picnic,
+you’re thinking? I tell you it’s a party
+compared with being out in that mess. Goodness
+knows, I’ve got troubles enough in life,
+but I’m not quite ready to be drowned yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’m not, either,” Step admitted.
+“Only&mdash;only I do wish it’d stay light a little
+longer.”</p>
+
+<p>“With you there!” cried Poke earnestly.</p>
+
+<p>The gloom, in fact, was for the chums&mdash;as
+for the larger party in the old house&mdash;the
+most insistent of the night’s discomforts. It<span class="pagenum">[317]</span>
+was worse than the pelting rain, from which,
+indeed, they had found shelter of a sort; it
+was worse than the chill of the air which
+increased as the night advanced, for they
+could huddle together for warmth. It even
+seemed to offer more menacing perils than
+the steadily rising flood, whose approach to
+the summit of the hillock it concealed. How
+Step and Poke endured the dragging hours
+can better be imagined than described. They
+had their alarms&mdash;many of them. Mysterious
+sounds came from the bosom of the flood; an
+owl hooted sepulchrally; occasionally a squall
+swept by, whistling shrilly about the shed.
+There were long intervals, though, in which
+they heard only the monotonous beat of the
+rain and a sound very like a heavy murmur
+from the river; and at such times weariness
+took its toll, and both boys slept, fitfully,
+brokenly and restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>Rather oddly, neither of them suspected
+the manner in which the waters were creeping
+toward their refuge. Neither had the
+mathematical bent of the Shark to work out
+a theory of a valley like a plugged bowl; and
+so, while they were perfectly aware of the discomforts<span class="pagenum">[318]</span>
+of their situation and while they
+were full of anxiety as to the fate of their
+friends, the discovery, at last, that the still
+rising river was invading the shed came with
+surprise as well as consternation.</p>
+
+<p>They turned again to the boat, and made
+desperate efforts to drag it out; but in this
+they were hampered and handicapped by the
+darkness. They did succeed in turning it on
+its side, but there it stuck, in spite of all their
+efforts.</p>
+
+<p>Now came a new cause of alarm. Some
+shift in the current began to swerve drifting
+objects toward their island. A score or more
+of big logs, freed by the breaking of some
+boom up-stream, came like a fleet of rams to
+batter the walls of the rickety structure. By
+this time the water was more than knee deep
+on the highest part of the earth floor of the
+shed, and Poke and Step were perched in
+insecurity on a pile of old boxes in a corner.
+The only alleviating feature of their situation
+was a lessening of the darkness with the coming
+of the dull dawn; but it was still a faint
+twilight which was all about them when the
+end of the shed came.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[319]</span></p>
+
+<p>Another lot of logs, traveling with even
+more momentum than the first flotilla, seemed
+to charge upon them. One tore a great hole
+in the shed wall; a second ripped away an
+end. Then a huge timber lodged against an
+upright of the framework, and with the full
+force of the flood behind it, turned like a
+beam of a great derrick, carrying away what
+was left of the roof, tearing out the wall as if
+it had been made of paper, and completing the
+ruin of the shed. The pile of boxes was tossed
+aside, and Poke and Step were pitched into
+the water.</p>
+
+<p>The big log, though, served them a good
+turn as well as a bad one. Their asylum was
+gone, but the boat had been set afloat by the
+blow, and, what was still better, was floating
+right side up. Half full of water as it was, it
+was a very ark of safety to the boys, who
+climbed aboard just as the current seized it
+and carried it free of the wreckage.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment or two the voyagers were
+content to sit still and regain breath. Then,
+pluckily, they set about improving the opportunity
+for escape which Fortune had thrown
+in their way.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[320]</span></p>
+
+<p>There were no oars aboard, but Step tore
+a broken thwart from its fastenings. One
+piece of the board he gave to Poke and
+another he himself put over the side. Both
+boys fell to paddling frantically&mdash;but to
+small avail. The punt was heavy, clumsy,
+water-logged. The paddles were the poorest
+of excuses. It was all they could do to
+swing the blunt bow of the boat toward the
+dimly visible shore; and after ten minutes’
+hard, but vain, endeavor the chums ceased
+their labors.</p>
+
+<p>Their plight now was distressful, though
+possibly having less of peril than had threatened
+them on their temporary island. Their
+ark, if unmanageable, kept afloat, and was
+stout enough to be in no great danger from
+collision with other flotsam borne along by
+the current. They were in water half-way to
+their knees, but even if the boat filled, its
+wooden bulk promised sufficient buoyancy to
+support them.</p>
+
+<p>“Sooner or later <a id="BRef_320" href="#Ref_320">we’ll have to drift ashore&mdash;somewhere</a>,”
+Poke remarked philosophically.
+“Kind of like the stone you chuck in
+the air&mdash;‘What goes up must come down,’<span class="pagenum">[321]</span>
+you know. And this isn’t the ocean&mdash;we’ll
+make land after a while.”</p>
+
+<div id="Ref_320" class="figcenter">
+<img src="images/i329.jpg" alt="" />
+<div class="caption"><p class="center">“<a href="#BRef_320">WE’LL HAVE TO DRIFT ASHORE SOMEWHERE</a>”</p></div>
+</div>
+
+<p>“Huh! Don’t make out any now!”
+croaked Step.</p>
+
+<p>Poke made deliberate survey. The light
+was still dim; low lying, gray clouds seemed
+to merge in thin mists, through which only
+vaguely could the shore be discerned. The
+rain had decreased somewhat, but it was like a
+veil in hiding distant objects. There were, to
+be sure, other objects near at hand, which
+under happier conditions the voyagers must
+have found interesting. Keeping pace with
+the boat, and not fifty feet away, drifted an
+overturned wagon. Trailing this came a
+pagoda-like summer-house, at the head of a
+fleet of chicken coops, boxes and barrels.
+Farther still from the boat floated the roof of
+a barn. All about them the boys saw planks,
+logs, a section of wooden fence, limbs torn
+from trees, doors, odds and ends of furniture;
+anything, in fact, which the flood could bear
+along. A squirrel, perched on a log, chattered
+at them; a cat, crouched on a big packing-case,
+mewed piteously. Beyond the case they
+could see the body of a cow, still held by a<span class="pagenum">[322]</span>
+halter to the shed in which she had been
+drowned, and which now was sweeping down
+the stream.</p>
+
+<p>Except for the current there was more suggestion
+of lake than river; though the trees
+protruding above the water added a weird
+touch to the picture, which differed markedly
+from that of any lake either boy ever had
+seen. Even the philosophy of Poke was not
+proof against the effects of such evidences of
+destruction. He huddled himself lower, and
+his voice shook.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I&mdash;say, this is pretty fierce, Step!
+Things must have been awful for the folks up
+above.”</p>
+
+<p>“They’re awful enough for the folks here!”
+groaned Step.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a long pause. The light
+strengthened, but slowly, very slowly. Neither
+of the boys took pains to maintain a
+vigilant lookout; and so it happened that
+they were sighted from the old house before
+they were aware of the attic still protruding
+above the flood.</p>
+
+<p>Roused to action by the shouts of Sam and
+his comrades, they caught up their extemporized<span class="pagenum">[323]</span>
+paddles and fell to work as for dear
+life. Had the boat not been drifting almost
+directly toward the house, however, it is much
+to be doubted if they could have brought it
+alongside. As things were, they accomplished
+the feat, the side of the punt crunching
+against the roof just where Sam and his
+friends were gathered.</p>
+
+<p>Then a curious complication arose. It was
+eloquent testimony to the slight confidence or
+liking either party had for its quarter; for as
+the boys in the house tried to scramble into
+the boat, Poke and Step leaped wildly for
+the break in the roof. In consequence, Poke
+and the Shark collided, and pitched together
+to the floor of the attic, while Step and Orkney,
+clinging to each other, reeled against Lon
+with such force as to drive him back from the
+opening.</p>
+
+<p>Sam and Varley chanced to be a little to
+one side. This kept them free of the unintentional
+mêlée, but, at the same time, put
+them farther from the boat, which, helped, no
+doubt, by the impetus of Poke and Step’s
+leaps, edged away from the house.</p>
+
+<p>It would be hard to say which was the<span class="pagenum">[324]</span>
+quicker to grasp the danger of losing the boat.
+Both sprang forward; both tried to grasp the
+gunwale&mdash;and both failed by inches.</p>
+
+<p>Then Varley did a thing which may have
+been rash, but the daring of which was not to
+be denied. Like a flash he whipped off his
+greatcoat; vaulted the wreck of wall; plunged
+into the flood; caught the side of the boat.
+Sam, no laggard in such an emergency, leaned
+out and seized Varley by the leg. In an instant
+his call for Lon brought help. The big
+punt was heavy; the current was beginning
+to lay hold upon it again. For a little it
+seemed to be impossible that Varley should
+be able to retain his grasp on the rail or that
+Lon and Sam should be able to haul in their
+human cable; then, inch by inch, they began
+to gain. The boat was dragged within reach.
+Orkney and the Shark, by this time clear of
+Step and Poke, held it fast, while Sam hauled
+Varley out of the water.</p>
+
+<p>“Get aboard&mdash;quick&mdash;everybody!” Sam
+cried, and helped Varley to obey the order.
+Then he turned and caught Step’s shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“Pile in! Hustle Poke, too! It’s our only
+chance!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[325]</span></p>
+
+<p>Step resisted. “Wait a minute, Sam! There
+are no oars. You can’t do anything. You
+can’t&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Sam half pitched the objector into the punt.
+Poke, taking the hint, followed, unassisted.</p>
+
+<p>Lon ripped up a narrow floor-board.</p>
+
+<p>“Here’s oars in the makin’,” he shouted.
+“All aboard&mdash;everybody that’s goin’!”</p>
+
+<p>There was no need of further exhortation.
+In thirty seconds more the Safety First Club
+was afloat, and the boat was again beginning
+to drift away from the old house.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[326]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">THE PRIZE SNATCHED FROM THE FLOOD</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Lon’s floor-board gave material for three
+rough-and-ready paddles, short, awkward to
+handle, yet more or less serviceable. Lon
+himself kept one, Orkney took another, and
+Varley laid claim to the third.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got to keep my blood circulating,”
+he explained. “Thought I was pretty well
+dampened before that last go, but now&mdash;whew!
+Say, I’d like to be run through a clothes
+wringer just as I stand. Next best thing’ll
+be working at something.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam also had stretched out a hand for
+the third paddle, but Lon ruled in favor of
+Paul.</p>
+
+<p>“Varley, you can have anything I’ve got!”
+he said warmly. “That leap-for-life, floatin’
+trapeze stunt you done was amazin’ good medicine
+for this crowd; for my notion is, the old<span class="pagenum">[327]</span>
+river ain’t got done risin’, and it ain’t got to
+do much more comin’ up in the world to clean
+swamp that garret. Good, quick action o’
+yourn, son, good quick action, I tell you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Paul modestly.
+“It&mdash;well, it just seemed to be a good idea.
+I&mdash;I hated, somehow, to lose the boat; though
+maybe the flood won’t go much higher.”</p>
+
+<p>“No; Lon’s right.” It was the Shark who
+spoke, with all his customary brusqueness.
+“Liable to be ten feet more of a rise. How
+do I know? How do you know anything?
+Figure it out, don’t you? Just what I did!
+If the mouth of the valley is dammed&mdash;must
+be, or the river would have behaved better&mdash;the
+water’ll keep on rising till it’s over the top
+of the dam. And from the levels as the map
+gave ’em, and the height of the bridge piers,
+as I recalled ’em&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Sam caught him by the shoulder. “Look
+here, Shark! Do you mean you’d figured all
+that out, and then didn’t tell us?”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark wriggled free. “Huh! What’d
+have been the good of telling? Just would
+have worried you fellows some more&mdash;wouldn’t
+have helped anything or anybody. You’re all<span class="pagenum">[328]</span>
+right in your way, but you don’t seem to be
+able to get any comfort out of calculations
+that go into three or more figures. So if I’d
+said anything, you’d have wanted to know
+why I said it, and when I tried to explain,
+you wouldn’t have understood. But if you’re
+so set on having me say something now, I’ll
+tell you that we’d better make shore. Current’s
+taking us down-stream, and I won’t
+guarantee how long the ice dam will hold.
+Don’t want to go over it, or through it, do
+you? Well then!”</p>
+
+<p>“Jumpin’ Jupiter, but that’s sense!” ejaculated
+Lon, and fell to paddling.</p>
+
+<p>Orkney and Varley followed the example.
+Step and Poke found the pieces of the broken
+thwart and added their mite. The Shark
+stared ahead. Sam, for a moment, was without
+occupation, but then he pulled off his cap
+and began to bail out some of the water in the
+boat. With the increased number of passengers
+a leak or two had developed.</p>
+
+<p>There is no craft more difficult to manage
+than a flat-bottomed, square-ended punt, deep
+in the water, and in the grasp of a strong current.
+Naturally enough, the attempt was<span class="pagenum">[329]</span>
+made to steer for the nearer bank, the one on
+which was the Grant farmhouse. It resulted
+in a sort of diagonal drift, in which a dozen
+feet were made down-stream for every foot of
+approach to land. Sometimes the boat was
+fairly across the current, sometimes her nose
+pointed almost directly down the river. More
+than once collision with floating débris threw
+her off her course. In short, she might have
+been compared to a crippled and bulky-bodied
+beetle, struggling with broken legs to swim to
+the shore of a stream into which it had fallen.
+But as the beetle, by virtue of hard work,
+draws nearer the land, so the big punt edged
+away from the swifter current of mid-stream.
+Presently she was scraping through the
+boughs of a young grove, the trees of which
+were submerged to their tops. The Shark,
+playing lookout man, sang out his news:</p>
+
+<p>“Hullo! There’s the Grants’ house! We’re
+just about abreast of it.”</p>
+
+<p>The paddlers toiled harder than ever, but
+Sam paused a moment in his bailing. The
+light had strengthened; he had no trouble in
+making out the house and the big barns
+near by. As well as he could determine, the<span class="pagenum">[330]</span>
+flood had not invaded the homestead, though
+it seemed to have reached the road in front of
+the place.</p>
+
+<p>Lon and his crew tried to arrest the drift
+down-stream; observing which, the Shark
+spoke oracularly:</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t try too hard to hold her on the
+mark! Keep her going, and see if we don’t
+strike an eddy pretty soon. My guess is we
+will.”</p>
+
+<p>Step had little breath to spare, but he used
+some of it in speech.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s that?” he gasped. “You ‘guess’?
+Thought math-mathematicians never guessed,
+but always were sure!”</p>
+
+<p>Round whipped the Shark, bristling.
+“Mathematics nothing! This is just common
+sense. I’m counting on the chances of
+being right about an ice jam down below. If
+it’s damming up the water, you’ll find some
+of the surplus that can’t get through or over
+the obstruction forced back along the edges,
+while the freshet keeps on pouring more water
+down the middle. Seen how the water whirligigs
+in a bowl, haven’t you, when you turn
+on the faucet? Well, then?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[331]</span></p>
+
+<p>Step might have made answer, but Poke
+thumped him on the back.</p>
+
+<p>“Cut it out!” the plump youth advised.
+“This is no debate; it’s a job!”</p>
+
+<p>Step grunted, and fell to paddling again.
+The Shark shrugged his shoulders, and resumed
+his observation; thought it was his
+privilege, very speedily, to utter the words
+the most self-restrained of mortals can’t deny
+themselves sometimes:</p>
+
+<p>“There! What did I tell you? We’ve hit
+an eddy!”</p>
+
+<p>It was true, and true beyond question. The
+lateral motion of the boat was now up-stream
+rather than down; and there was no longer
+difficulty in keeping the house over her square
+bow. Moreover, in the slack water the pace
+of the heavy craft seemed to increase. And
+again the Shark gave tidings:</p>
+
+<p>“Say, fellows, I can see folks! They’re
+waiting for us&mdash;right by the edge of the road
+just below the house. Mr. Grant’s there&mdash;and
+there’s another man&mdash;and hurrah! Herman
+and the Trojan! They’re both on deck,
+so all our crowd’s accounted for! And oh, I
+say! There’s Mrs. Grant hustling down from<span class="pagenum">[332]</span>
+the house and waving a shawl or something
+like all possessed!”</p>
+
+<p>With such good news ringing in the ears of
+the crew, the big boat appeared fairly to jump
+forward. There was a mighty splashing along
+both sides, but what the paddlers lacked in art
+they made up in energy. From the shore
+came cries of welcome and eager query, but
+everybody on the punt was too busy to make
+reply. Then there was more splashing, as the
+Trojan and Herman, with Mr. Grant close behind
+them, dashed into the water to meet the
+voyagers. They caught the gunwale of the
+boat and dragged the craft forward till she
+grounded. And then the Shark laid hold
+upon Mr. Grant.</p>
+
+<p>“There is an ice jam, isn’t there?” he demanded.
+“Big one, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Biggest ever heard of in these parts! Both
+bridges knocked off their piers and all tangled
+up with the ice. That’s what raised hob when
+the dams up-river began to go out, and let
+down all the water. Railroad’s sent for its
+wrecking crew, and it’s coming with dynamite
+to blow open a channel, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>The Shark was discourteous enough not to<span class="pagenum">[333]</span>
+wait for the completion of the sentence. He
+turned triumphantly to his comrades in
+general and to Step in particular.</p>
+
+<p>“Hear that, did you? Josh me about
+guessing, would you? Huh! I’ll guess
+again, and the guess is that the fellow who
+has the last laugh gets the best one. Huh!”</p>
+
+<p>With that the Shark stepped ashore,
+avoided the outstretched arms of Mrs. Grant,
+and fell prey to the Trojan, who splashed out
+of the river as joyously as he had splashed
+into it. The Trojan and Herman had had a
+night of terrible anxiety, but had escaped any
+adventures such as had befallen the rest of the
+club. Maybe there was a touch of envy in
+the demands upon the Shark for his story&mdash;which,
+by the way, the Shark did not relate.
+Indeed, there was for a little too much confusion
+for anybody to offer a coherent narrative;
+and then Mrs. Grant was urging the
+party up the slope to the porch, and into the
+house, where open fires burned cheerily, and
+where there was a wonderfully delicious odor
+of boiling coffee and cooking viands.</p>
+
+<p>The big house seemed to have an unlimited
+store of dry garments. Mrs. Grant brought<span class="pagenum">[334]</span>
+them by the armful into the living-room, and
+made proclamation:</p>
+
+<p>“Listen to me, everybody! You men folks
+can have this room to yourselves while
+Hannah and I dish up the breakfast. It’ll
+be ready for you the minute you’re all in dry
+things; and I reckon you’ll find enough to
+go around. Don’t mind looks or fit, and
+don’t stop to primp. And here’s a lot of
+good rough towels&mdash;you’ll need a rub-down to
+take out the chill. Don’t you keep me waiting,
+and I won’t keep you waiting, either!”</p>
+
+<p>She was turning to the door, but Sam
+stopped her. As head of the Safety First
+Club, he had learned some valuable lessons
+in thoughtfulness for others.</p>
+
+<p>“Just a minute, please, Mrs. Grant!” he
+begged. “Our folks in town&mdash;do they know
+we’re all right, or have they heard anything
+about&mdash;about our being out all night?”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant shook her head vigorously.
+“Not a syllable have they had, good or bad,
+welcome or worrying! The telephone broke
+down about eight o’clock last night, and I
+tell you, boys, I never was so glad of such an
+accident before. If any of your mothers had<span class="pagenum">[335]</span>
+called me up&mdash;mercy, but I don’t know what
+I could have said or done! There, there!
+Let me count you again. Let’s see! Five,
+six, seven, eight&mdash;yes, you’re all here, thank
+the stars!”</p>
+
+<p>Lon heaved a burlesque sigh. “Oh, my,
+my! And I ain’t even figgered in the census
+no more!”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant laughed very cheerfully. “Oh,
+you’ll figure, Lon Gates, but I sort of put you
+in the ought-to-have-known-better class.”</p>
+
+<p>Lon bowed deeply. “Thanky for the compliment,
+ma’am. I don’t get so many of ’em
+that I recognize ’em any easier than old
+man Plympton uster recognize his fust wife’s
+third cousins when they came fishin’ for an
+invitation to dinner, for old times’ sake, his
+fourth bein’ a mighty fine cook, if I say it as
+shouldn’t, she bein’ kin o’ mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if that’s what you call a compliment,
+I guess you have got out of practice
+entertaining ’em,” chuckled Mrs. Grant.
+“But now get into dry clothes, every man
+Jack of you!” And out she bustled, closing
+the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>For ten minutes the living-room resembled<span class="pagenum">[336]</span>
+nothing so much as the locker room of an
+athletic field. Crowding before the fire, the
+boys ripped off their wet garments, plied the
+big towels vigorously, and then, warm and
+glowing, slipped into the emergency costumes
+awaiting them. The results surely were
+picturesque, but nobody minded trifles like a
+shirt three sizes too big or trousers that came
+only a little below knees.</p>
+
+<p>“Ready?” called Mrs. Grant from the
+dining-room.</p>
+
+<p>Sam ran an eye over his company. Poke
+wagged his head solemnly.</p>
+
+<p>“In all my life,” he said, “I never knew
+before what being really ready for a square
+meal was!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ready!” Sam reported; though, as
+he spoke, he saw that Tom Orkney, withdrawn
+a little from the others, was standing
+close to a window and inspecting something
+he held in his hand. Still, as Tom had made
+as full a toilette as anybody else, Sam saw no
+reason to delay on his account.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, ma’am, ready!” he repeated more
+loudly.</p>
+
+<p>The door swung, and the boys trooped into<span class="pagenum">[337]</span>
+the dining-room, Lon bearing them willing
+company. But while they feasted their eyes
+upon the well-spread table, their hostess was
+again making a count.</p>
+
+<p>“Six, seven&mdash;sakes alive! but there ought
+to be eight of you, not saying anything of Lon
+Gates, who’s quite big enough to speak for himself.
+And there’s only seven.” Mrs. Grant
+was moving toward the door. “Now what
+in the world&mdash;&mdash;” she was looking into the
+living-room. “Oh, there you are! Goodness
+gracious, child, I should think you’d be
+famished!”</p>
+
+<p>Orkney thrust what he had been examining
+into an inner pocket of his coat. Then, blushing
+and embarrassed, he came forward.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I must have been so interested in&mdash;in
+something I found, I&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind it now, anyway! Sit right
+down, and let’s see if you won’t find breakfast
+interesting, too.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom took his place at the table; the others
+already had taken their places. Hannah,
+coffee-pot in hand, approached, and began to
+fill the cups.</p>
+
+<p>Every face brightened as the savory odor<span class="pagenum">[338]</span>
+of the steaming coffee filled the room. Poke
+sighed, but it was a sigh of vast content.</p>
+
+<p>“My, my, but this is bully! Only I
+wish&mdash;&mdash;” there he broke off abruptly and a
+bit sheepishly.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you wishing?” Mrs. Grant inquired
+solicitously.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it doesn’t matter, ma’am. I&mdash;I&mdash;it
+was just a fancy.”</p>
+
+<p>“What kind of a fancy? Tell us, do!”</p>
+
+<p>Poke reddened; he moved uneasily in his
+chair. “It&mdash;I guess it’s too foolish to talk
+about.”</p>
+
+<p>“But sometimes I like to hear things that
+may not be so foolish, after all.”</p>
+
+<p>The boy hesitated. Then, perceiving that
+the whole hungry party waited on an end of
+this interlude, he spoke, hastily and jerkily:</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a crazy notion, I know....
+Folks don’t do it at breakfast, I suppose.
+But&mdash;but I couldn’t help remembering that
+perfectly corking buster of a mince pie we had
+yesterday, and wishing I’d come to it with the
+razor appetite I’ve got this minute. It was
+just a notion, you know, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>There Mrs. Grant stopped him. “What<span class="pagenum">[339]</span>
+did I tell you about foolish things that
+weren’t foolish?... Hannah! Bring
+it in&mdash;we’ll begin with it, instead of end with
+it.... And hurry, please do!”</p>
+
+<p>Away sped the maid to the kitchen, and
+Mrs. Grant again addressed her guests:</p>
+
+<p>“Some people poke fun at pie for breakfast,
+but over in Sugar Valley we have a better use
+for it&mdash;we eat it. And this morning I feel
+like eating it with special thankfulness for it
+and every other mercy and good thing in life.
+You boys are all alive&mdash;I’m going to hear all
+about how you happen to be alive, as soon as
+we’ve attended to having last night’s supper,
+and a go-to-bed snack, and this morning’s
+breakfast, all at once. The flood has swept
+the valley, and there has been a terrible lot
+of damage, but so far as we can hear, nobody
+has been drowned. And if we have to have
+new bridges down below&mdash;well, that’ll be a
+good thing, too; I’ve been mortal afraid of the
+old covered bridge lately&mdash;it was so rickety.
+So we’ll reckon up our mercies&mdash;&mdash; Right
+here, Hannah; I’ll cut it myself.”</p>
+
+<p>A chorus of exclamations rose from the
+boys. The maid had reappeared, bearing a<span class="pagenum">[340]</span>
+pie as big, as magnificent, as nobly tinted as
+the wonder of the day before.</p>
+
+<p>“Jeeminy! the twin!” cried Step, admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“Right!” said Mrs. Grant briskly. “The
+story goes, old Dominie Pike wished mightily
+that he might have had two pies instead of
+one, so we always make up a double allowance.
+And now don’t wait for ceremony.”
+She was beginning to cut the pie with sure
+and deft wielding of her knife. “This time
+we’ll begin with the boy who thought of
+having pie for breakfast&mdash;yes, serve him first,
+Hannah.”</p>
+
+<p>Hungrily Poke snatched up a fork. There
+was something frankly famished in the admiring
+gaze he fixed upon the contents of the
+plate put before him.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t wait!” Mrs. Grant counselled.
+“We’ll dispense with ceremony.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke needed no urging. He was desperately
+hungry; and, moreover, as has been
+said, he was a mighty trencherman. Up rose
+the fork, well freighted. An instant’s silence;
+then one word:</p>
+
+<p>“Ah-h!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[341]</span></p>
+
+<p>If ever vast satisfaction were packed into a
+syllable, it was in that brief exclamation.
+Their hostess beamed; the boys burst into
+laughter. Sam, before whom Hannah had
+placed the second plate, caught Mrs. Grant’s
+eye.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;I think I used to be prejudiced about&mdash;about&mdash;&mdash;”
+he hesitated. “Somehow,
+though, I think you understand what I
+mean, ma’am. Maybe I didn’t appreciate&mdash;er&mdash;er&mdash;you
+know!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know! But you’re not to bother your
+head about that for a second. I was young
+once myself, thank Heaven!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I appreciate it now,” said Sam
+simply. “And I’m mighty glad I’ve learned
+how to appreciate it. This whole business&mdash;from
+first to last, with the flood thrown in&mdash;I&mdash;I
+guess I know more than I did,” he concluded
+with an effort.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m surely glad all of you know about
+Sugar Valley and its legends,” Mrs. Grant put
+in quickly, to cover his confusion. “I’ve told
+you one story about Dominie Pike. There are
+a lot of other stories.”</p>
+
+<p>Tom Orkney spoke from his end of the table.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[342]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I wonder if some of them are not here,
+Mrs. Grant,” he said, and took from his pocket
+a little book, stained, frayed, dog-eared at the
+corners, lacking covers, and with some of the
+outer pages sadly mutilated.</p>
+
+<p>From hand to hand it was passed to Mrs.
+Grant. The boys could see that the pages
+were filled with writing, small, closely lined,
+in ink which had faded with the passage of
+years.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant glanced curiously at the little
+book. She turned the pages, her interest evidently
+increasing as she proceeded.</p>
+
+<p>“Why&mdash;why, if this isn’t the real thing&mdash;the
+original diary of Dominie Pike&mdash;but how
+did you come by it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I found it in an old house we stayed in
+till the flood drove us out.”</p>
+
+<p>The lady nodded. “Yes, that would fit&mdash;it
+must have been the old Dominie’s house.
+But this book, now! You know, I told you
+I never saw the original, and never knew
+anybody who had seen it, but this&mdash;well, it
+certainly fits the description of the diary
+that’s been handed down. And the penmanship
+is just like the Dominie’s&mdash;there are some<span class="pagenum">[343]</span>
+other specimens in old documents that have
+been preserved&mdash;bills, receipts, agreements,
+and so on. And as nearly as I can make out
+what it says&mdash;yes, it reads as if it was genuine.
+And I think it’s one of the first of the set the
+Dominie is known to have kept. But you
+found it, you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Tom. “It was in a niche, a
+sort of hiding-place in the chimney above the
+fireplace in an up-stairs room.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know the room you mean. They say it
+was the Dominie’s study. He may have left
+the book there, or maybe his son or grandson
+did. But how in the world did you happen
+to hunt it out?”</p>
+
+<p>Orkney hesitated. He was not a fellow of
+ready speech, and he was embarrassed by the
+attention he was attracting.</p>
+
+<p>“I&mdash;well, I can’t explain exactly except that
+I had a&mdash;a hunch, you might call it&mdash;that,
+somehow, the Dominie Pike story might be
+more than a plain story. And when I heard
+about the lost diary&mdash;well, it happened I remembered
+it would be awfully good medicine
+for this crowd if we could find it. There’s a
+prize&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[344]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” said Poke sharply and suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s a prize we’d like to win for&mdash;for a
+special reason&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Bully old Orkney!” cried Step.</p>
+
+<p>Orkney raised a hand. “Better let me finish
+the best way I can&mdash;I’m not much of a chap
+at such things. Well, then, I couldn’t get the
+Dominie’s diary out of my head. So when
+we had nothing else to do in the old house,
+I kept nosing around. In that up-stairs room
+something made me suspect there might be
+a hiding-place in the masonry of the chimney.
+My grandfather’s house had a sort of safety-deposit
+box built into its chimney, and I got
+a hint from that. Of course, it was too dark
+to see much, but by feeling along and then
+digging with my knife&mdash;well, to make the
+story short, I found that book just as we had
+to beat it&mdash;go away, I mean. So I tucked the
+book where it would be safe, and when we
+were on shore, and there was a chance, I
+looked it over. And&mdash;and you think it’s the
+real thing, don’t you?” he added anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly!” cried Mrs. Grant. “I haven’t
+a doubt that it is.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[345]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And you won’t mind our taking it for a
+while?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mind? Bless me, child, it’s yours for the
+finding, and welcome!”</p>
+
+<p>But Orkney shook his head. “No; it belongs
+to you,” he said. “You’ll know what
+to do with it permanently. We shouldn’t. A
+week or two will be quite enough for our purposes.”</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Grant looked perplexed. “Well,
+maybe you understand what you’re about.
+I don’t, but that’s neither here nor there.
+And if it suits you, surely it suits me, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you!” said Orkney very gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, thank you!” echoed the Safety First
+Club with a fervent heartiness Mrs. Grant
+perceived but quite failed to comprehend.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum">[346]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br />
+<span class="cheaderfont">POKE OUT OF BONDAGE</span></h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>The result of the historical essay competition
+was a foregone conclusion. Under the
+conditions, by which facts counted for more
+than form of expression, the production of the
+Safety First Club, entered in Poke’s name,
+took the hundred dollar prize, with never a
+doubt in the minds of the judges. Tattered
+and torn as was the diary of Dominie Pike, it
+yet threw so much light upon debated questions
+of early town history, and added so much
+information to the local historians’ store of
+knowledge, that the award was made with
+very little delay.</p>
+
+<p>Poke, it must be said, rebelled at the last, but
+the club promptly overruled his objections.
+Step argued long and vigorously with his chum.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got to have money, and here is
+money. Don’t be an idiot! What do you
+want to do? Turn us down, and be sued or&mdash;or
+something? Want your folks to know<span class="pagenum">[347]</span>
+all about the mess, eh? Ugh! Thought you
+didn’t. And here you’ve been growling about
+luck being against you, and when it’s for you,
+you’re all for jumping the fence to get away
+from it. Say, you make me tired!”</p>
+
+<p>This was Step’s conclusion, and along with
+the rest of his argument served to shake Poke
+somewhat, and to send him to Sam, as a sort
+of court of appeal. But Sam quite agreed with
+Step.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here, Poke,” he said. “I know
+how you feel; how you hate to take all of
+what you think ought to be divided among
+the gang. But it’s the thing for you to do.
+That dinner of yours was really a club affair.
+You gave it to even up a club account with
+Varley. So the whole club is concerned in
+getting you out of a scrape that resulted from
+the dinner. Every one of us feels that way
+about it&mdash;Orkney most of all. So trot along,
+and pay the bill, and be happy.”</p>
+
+<p>Poke drew a long face. “Happy? With
+just a shift of load? I’ll be out of debt to the
+hotel man, and under debt to every one of
+you fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam laughed, and it wasn’t a feigned laugh,<span class="pagenum">[348]</span>
+either. “Poke, you miss the combination!
+There isn’t one of us who hasn’t had his full
+share of help, one way or another, out of all
+we went through.”</p>
+
+<p>“Umph! What did you get, for instance?”
+Poke demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“I got a lot.”</p>
+
+<p>“A mince pie! You’re fooling me&mdash;or
+trying to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I got a mince pie,” said Sam calmly.
+“And I’ll tell you this: I wouldn’t miss the
+pointers I’ve picked up in getting it. I know
+more about people, and er&mdash;er&mdash;about motives.
+And I can see what a fool I made of myself
+for a while. And I see, too, how what seem
+like little things at the start can lead to big
+things. Why, it’s like rolling a snowball
+that gets bigger and bigger as you push it
+along. It began with Varley breaking our
+rules, and walking into the club. Then
+came the runaway, with Varley mixed up in
+it, and Mrs. Grant’s coming after us, and my
+row with the club, and, finally, after Varley
+had treated us and you’d treated him in return
+and got in trouble doing it&mdash;why, it all had to
+happen to lead us to Sugar Valley. And you<span class="pagenum">[349]</span>
+wouldn’t have missed your experience there,
+would you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Course I wouldn’t!” cried Poke indignantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, then! What more would you have?
+Tom Orkney’s as pleased as Punch to have
+found that old book, but it pleases him more
+to be able to give you a lift. No, Poke, there’s
+nothing for you to do but make a fair wind
+of it, and sail down to the Rainbow Mountain
+House, and settle up.”</p>
+
+<p>“You honestly mean that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Every word of it!” said Sam gravely.</p>
+
+<p>So Poke, with the prize money supplemented
+by his own savings and the contributions
+of the club, drove out to the hotel, and
+paid his bill for breakage, and received a
+formal receipt, and drove back, a deal relieved
+in spirit, and full of projects to make money
+enough to repay his friends.</p>
+
+<p>Paul Varley had not been invited to join in
+the contribution. He had, naturally enough,
+gained a pretty accurate idea of the story and
+Poke’s plight, but when he hinted at a wish
+to bear his share in the relief fund, Sam
+rather tactfully discouraged him. Paul understood:<span class="pagenum">[350]</span>
+it was a club affair, and he was not
+of the club, though he was on the best of
+terms with its members. He had proof of
+their regard for him in a very friendly demonstration
+in his honor.</p>
+
+<p>Rather unexpectedly, Paul was called back
+to the city. It was a summons by telegraph,
+and he had to obey it at once. He was surprised
+and gratified, therefore, when he
+reached the railroad station to find the Safety
+First Club gathered in full force on the platform.</p>
+
+<p>Boys, on such occasions, do not make
+smooth and felicitous farewell speeches.</p>
+
+<p>“Quitting us, eh? Sorry!” “Say, old
+sport, you’ll be running up to see us some
+time, of course.” “Paul, we’re going to miss
+you&mdash;you’re all right.” “What you got on for
+this summer? Don’t forget old Plainfield.”</p>
+
+<p>That was the sort of thing they told him,
+and Paul made reply in kind. But he had a
+moment apart with Sam, when he spoke more
+freely.</p>
+
+<p>“Parker, I’m older than your crowd, but,
+somehow, I’ve got a lot of good out of them.
+I’ve tried to keep up my end&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum">[351]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But you have kept it up,” Sam cut in.
+“Why, you’ve treated the lot of us over and
+over again, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>Varley interrupted him in turn. “I don’t
+mean that way,” he said hastily. “I mean
+in doing things, in taking the luck that came,
+in standing punishment with the crowd. I
+was what you might call soft, out of condition,
+at the start; and a lot of your game was
+new to me&mdash;the roughing it&mdash;the tramps over
+the snow&mdash;the flood&mdash;all that sort of thing.
+I didn’t want to show a yellow streak&mdash;&mdash;”</p>
+
+<p>“Yellow streak nothing! A chap that’d
+take the chance you took when you jumped for
+that boat is true blue all the way through!”</p>
+
+<p>Varley cast a swift glance at the rest of the
+club; he saw that they were out of ear-shot,
+yet he lowered his voice:</p>
+
+<p>“Parker, you heard me squeal when that
+crash came&mdash;when the big barge hit the old
+house? Of course you heard me! Now,
+honestly, that was just nerves, but I could
+have bitten out my tongue a minute after I’d
+yelled for help. But it wouldn’t have done
+any good. You’d heard me; the crowd had
+heard me. So I made up my mind that if<span class="pagenum">[352]</span>
+the opportunity came to make good for that
+break, I’d seize it. So when you and I
+grabbed for the boat and missed it&mdash;why&mdash;why&mdash;well,
+we just had to stop that boat from
+drifting away. So I went after it. That’s the
+story in a nutshell.”</p>
+
+<p>Sam, the undemonstrative, gripped Paul’s
+hand.</p>
+
+<p>“It was the pluckiest and quickest witted
+job I ever saw,” he declared. “And that’s
+what every one of the fellows thinks, too.”</p>
+
+<p>Had Varley had doubts of this, they must
+have been removed, as leaning from a car
+window, he waved farewell to the Safety First
+Club. For, of a sudden, the Shark, once his
+bitterest critic, stepped forward, pulled off his
+hat, and led in a cheer that gained in hearty
+volume from beginning to end.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter with Paul Varley?
+He’s all right!” chanted the Shark.</p>
+
+<p>“Hurrah for Varley! Rah, rah, rah, rah,
+rah, rah, rah, rah, rah, Varley!” chorused
+the club with a will.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb" />
+
+<p class="center">The Stories in this Series are:</p>
+
+<div class="center">
+<p class="displayinline pminus1">THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB<br />
+THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB AND THE FLOOD
+</p></div>
+
+<hr class="tb x-ebookmaker-drop" />
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<div class="transnote">
+<h2 style="margin-top: 0em">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2>
+
+<p>Illustrations have been moved to paragraph breaks near where they are
+mentioned.</p>
+
+<p>Punctuation has been made consistent.</p>
+
+<p>Variations in spelling and hyphenation were retained as they appear in
+the original publication, except that obvious typographical errors
+have been corrected.</p>
+
+<p>The following change was made:</p>
+
+<p id="BRef_153"><a href="#Ref_153">p. 153</a>: myself changed to himself (commit himself on)</p>
+</div></div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SAFETY FIRST CLUB AND THE FLOOD ***</div>
+<div style='text-align:left'>
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-23 09:33:57 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-23 09:33:57 -0800
commit	a49f947744382f0af153cc942e55c5fffe16165a (patch)
tree	00da4880a3af22d90b6bb5e9fe07707cb2bfceda