Inside the house things did not look so pleasant. The east window was completely out, the panes were all broken, and there was nothing in sight with which to make repairs.
The boys stirred up the fire, but the wind blew ashes all over the room as it darted through the fireplace and escaped up the chimney, whiffing in one direction and then sucking in.
“Let’s find boards and nail them across that window. That’s all there is left to do,” said Frank.
“But where are the boards?” asked Paul.
Frank waited not a moment. He knew as well as the other boys there were no boards at the house, but he also realized that he did not know what was in that shack down by the lake.
As full daylight came upon them, he strode out of the house and down to the shack to learn what was there. And on opening the door he saw several things—three canoes standing on end and about a dozen thin boards, ten inches wide, stacked up in the corner, among other things.
Grabbing three of the boards, he came out of the shade, forgetting that he must hold them flat side down, and the wind caught the full ten inch width and whirled him around like a top, spinning him twice around and landing him in a heap in the snow.
It was Lanky Wallace who saw the occurrence. He came dashing from the house to help.
Frank was not injured, but he had been knocked around so suddenly and without any chance to protect himself or to regain his balance, so that in falling he went across the boards stomach first, the breath being knocked out of him.
Between the two boys the boards were lugged up to the broken window, and they yelled for a saw and a hammer.