Ham's little pocket ax sang out in the winter night, and soon his efforts were rewarded by a tiny blaze on the hearth. He ordered his forces like a veteran, and they obeyed him without question—all save Sleepy, who chose a comfortable spot in the corner and sat down, refusing to move. Very soon the kitchen stove began to heat its end of the house, and the big tin teakettle sang and sighed over the flames. Mr. Allen was busy with supper and Fat was clearing a space before the open fire so they could all sit down together. Some brought in the wood and piled it high in one corner, while others scraped the snow away from the lea of a big boulder, thus making a shelter for the donkeys. Ham smuggled a half a dozen frozen potatoes for them and a half loaf of rye bread.
A column of merry sparks rose from the chimney, while the candles threw weird, funny little shadows out on the snow through the barred windows. Ham and Willis were watering the donkeys and discussing their trip up, when Ham, without any apparent reason, burst into a merry laugh.
"I have an idea, Willis, and it's a capital one, too. Will you help me carry it out?" and he laughed again.
"Well, that depends," returned Willis.
Ham put his hand to his ear and listened, then turned and looked eagerly toward the cabin. When he was satisfied they were alone he continued: "When I first came out here to feed the mules I heard an owl hooting up in that big tree. My, but it startled me at first, until I had time to think what it was. You know they shot a young mountain lion over on Black Mountain day before yesterday. Now, we aren't so far from Black Mountain, and if we are ever going to make a real, worth-while member for O.F.F. out of Sleepy Smith, we have got to begin soon, and, besides, I'm satisfied we will have to use a few extraordinary tactics. We have nursed him long enough; besides, his spirit is rotten. He has been sitting in there by that fire all evening and hasn't turned his hand to do a thing. He will probably want some one to put him to bed, yet, to-night. All the way up the trail he whined and acted like a baby. You remember the tricks he pulled off the day we moved the stuff over from Fairview on the donkeys—sneaked up in the bunk after dinner and went to sleep. You know how we nearly locked him in. He's hurting our crowd.
"We took him in, you know, because Mr. Allen thought there was so much in him worth saving. Someway, it hasn't come out yet, and we've got to operate, do you understand? We've got to scare Sleepy Smith out of his boots once or twice to see what's in him. Let's do it to-night. If we don't, next time we bring a crowd up here on a night like this there will be three or four sitting around the fire doing nothing, and the next time six or seven, until at last a few of us will be waiting on the whole bunch, do you see?"
"Yes, I see," replied Willis between chattering teeth; "but how on earth are you going to do it a night like this, with all this crowd?"
"Now, I'll tell you just what I want you to do. I'll pull off the game and you be my accomplice. We'll take Sleepy out for a snow-bird hunt. I never heard of one myself, but I'll fix that all right. We'll scare the life out of that boy this night or bust. All you have to do—there comes some one."
"Ham, Ham!" called Fat from the cabin; "come on to supper while it's hot." Then the door closed again. The two started toward the cabin, leaving old Peanuts braying hoarsely in the night.
"All you have to do," continued Ham, "is to just swear to all I say. You'll catch on after I get started. Be sure to watch for the chance. I'll tell Fat the scheme, and if I can get Sleepy out of the house for a minute, I'll fix it up with the crowd." They were just about to enter the cabin when somewhere in the night came the weird hoot of an owl, and a pale, sickly moon peeped between the clouds.