"Well, we know that Mr. Fits hasn't been out to-day," Prescott laughed. "Just look at his door. The drifts have piled against it, higher than the door itself."
Snow scenes, however, do not feed any one. So the boys turned back to the kitchen preparations. What if the bacon and eggs didn't look quite neat enough to suit a real housekeeper? The mess tasted good. So did the fried potatoes, made out of the left overs from last night's boiled ones. Coffee, bread and butter and "store pie." No wonder the youngsters, when they were through with breakfast, and in a cabin now warm from one end to the other, felt, as Dick expressed it:
"Say, we're at peace with the whole world, aren't we?" he asked.
"Yes," agreed Dan solemnly. "Mr. Fits is snowed in tight."
"We're even at peace with Hen Dutcher, the miserable shirk," rumbled Tom Reade.
"That reminds me," said Dick, turning. "Hen, it's up to you to wash all the dishes, and to do it tidily, too."
"I won't," retorted Hen defiantly. "I'm no servant to you fellows."
"Hen," observed Dick, with a light in his eyes that meant business, "it's past the time now for you to tell us what you'll do and what you won't do. We didn't invite you here, and you didn't pay any share of the expenses that we have been under. Accident made you our guest; we didn't really want you here at all. The same accident that makes it necessary for you to stay here for the present has kept away the rest of your crowd—Fred Ripley and his pals. While you stay here you'll do your full share of the work. If you don't, you'll soon wish you had. Now, your first job is to wash and dry the dishes. After that you'll tidy up the cabin. I'll show you what's needed in that line. Get to work!"
Hen had grown meeker during this address, for he saw that the other fellows approved all that their leader was saying.
"All right," he muttered; "I'll do it, but it ain't a square deal. I'm your guest and I ought not to work."