Jadbury Wilson got up off the cot, but subsided back with a groan of pain.
"I got banged and bumped around too much," he said. "Thought I'd get busy and try to straighten things up around here."
"We'll do that," said Jerry Gilroy promptly.
"Everythin's pretty well smashed up," observed the old man. "But you could mebbe fix up the stove so it would work again. Looks as if we're all here to stay until the storm blows over."
The boys made Jadbury Wilson comfortable on his cot and then they set to work to restore some semblance of order to the interior of the little cabin. They managed to patch up openings in the walls through which the snow was drifting, and although one side of the cottage had collapsed completely there was still sufficient room in which to move about. They nailed a tarpaulin over the broken window, righted the table and chairs and picked up the tin dishes that were scattered about on the floor. The stove gave them most trouble, but they were able to set the stovepipe up again and light a fire so that before long a comfortable warmth began to pervade the interior of their shelter.
Jadbury Wilson, lying on the cot, approved of their efforts.
"We're in out of the storm, anyway," he said. "That's the main thing. And from the sound of that wind, it ain't as yet dyin' down any."
Frank Hardy drew aside the tarpaulin and looked out. It was dark now, and with nightfall the blizzard seemed to have increased in volume. The wind beat against the sides of the cabin, the snow swished madly against the roof.
"We're marooned here for the night," he told his chums.
"It could be worse," remarked Joe. "We're lucky to be under cover."