“I hope the other boys aren’t cold while we are enjoying this fine fire,” Mac murmured.
“They may be around the stove at Fox Point,” Tim hoped.
“Sure. On the other hand, we can’t help but realize that they may be out in the woods, wandering around. Hang it all, I hate waiting worse than anything else on earth!”
Tim sprang up and went to the window, peering out. “So do I. I wonder——No, the storm is pretty bad, and we had better not get away from the lodge. Listen to that old wind!”
Mac couldn’t help listening to it. With a shrill, whistling sound it tore around the lodge and made some of the windows rattle. The fire in the grate was vigorous and glowing because of it. Already the coffee was bubbling, and a tempting odor came from the pot on the coals. Had the other boys been there with them, they would have thoroughly enjoyed it all, but just now its attraction was lost in the air of uncertainty that surrounded them.
“I think we moved out of the cabin just in time,” he said. “That little old place is something of an antique, and it was colder than it should have been. I’ll bet the wind is coming in under the door over there.”
Tim nodded, looking around the room they were in. “Yes, this surely is a great improvement. Wicker couch and chairs, window seats and well-filled bookcases. How shall we sleep tonight? In the bedrooms?”
“I don’t think so. Too cold. This couch will be good for one of us to sleep on, and if we lug the mattresses in here, we can make dandy beds. I have an idea that the sheets and everything else in those rooms would be as cold as ice.”
Tim took the pan of beans off of the fire. “These are ready, and the boys aren’t here yet, though it is after six. Want to eat?”
Mac shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s wait awhile. We can heat them up again when they come. I’ll go get some more coal.”