“The place wouldn’t seem half as cosy without that fireplace,” said Biff.
Frank regarded the great stone chimney.
“It certainly is a whopper. I wonder what Hanleigh was so interested in it for.”
“Let’s forget about Hanleigh,” said Chet. “He won’t bother us any more.”
“Let’s hope not. But, just the same, I’d like to know why he was making all those measurements.”
“If he comes back, we’ll heave him into a snowdrift and teach him a lesson,” suggested Biff. “We won’t let him spoil our holiday.”
Outside, the storm had become a blizzard. Joe went to the window. He could see nothing but driving snow, and the wind was howling down upon the island. The cabin, staunchly built, scarcely trembled before the impact of the winter gale. The activities of the day had left the boys tired and they decided to go to bed early.
In due time, after much scuffling about and after Biff had chastised Chet for trying to hide his socks in the woodpile, the boys retired for the night and blew out the lamps. The fire glowed red and the night wind howled down the chimney. Under the heavy blankets, the lads were warm and comfortable.
Silence descended upon the cabin.
The boys were just snuggling down to sleep when a terrifying sound rose above the clamor of the wind.