"I read in Dr. Kane's book of arctic travels, that when they make houses of snow they throw water on them, which freezes, and holds them firm and tight. Couldn't you do that here? It's cold enough to freeze anything."
Aleck thought he might, and bidding Kate go back to her fireside, he called the other boys to help him; then, while Jim stuffed the cracks with snow, Aleck and Tug alternately brought water from a hole cut in the river ice, and dashed it against the chinking. Some of the water splashed through, and a good deal was tossed back in their faces and benumbed their hands, so that it was hard, cold work; but before long a crust had formed over the snow-stuffed cracks, and Katy came to the door to say that she couldn't feel a draught anywhere. The roof was pretty good, and when, tired and hungry, but warm with their exercise (except as to their toes and fingers), the three lads went in and shut the door, they found their quarters very snug, and didn't mind how loud the gale howled among the trees outside. Rex, especially, seemed to enjoy it, curling down at the corner of the fireplace as though very much at home.
Meanwhile Katy bustled about, setting out plates, knives, and forks on the top of the mess chest, which she had covered with the clean white paper in which her packages had been wrapped. She had put eight eggs to boil in the kettle, which were now done, and were carefully fished out, while the coffee-pot was bubbling on the coals, and letting fragrant jets of steam escape from under the loosely fitting cover. A cut loaf of bread lay on the table, and beside it a tumbler of currant jelly, "as sure as I am a Dutchman"—which was Tug's favorite way of putting a truth very strongly indeed, though he wasn't that kind of a man at all. The eagerness to taste this sweetmeat brought out the melancholy fact that by some accident there was only one spoon in the whole kit.
SUPPER IN THE LOG CABIN.
"We'll fix that all right this evening," Aleck remarked. "I'll whittle wooden ones out of sycamore."
"Shall I broil some mutton-chops, or will you save those for breakfast?"
"Broil 'em now," cried Jim.