"No," Dave and Tom both admitted.
"Then, as there's no telling how long this good old blizzard will last, we'll do well to stack all the wood we can carry into this cabin."
"Why not take a little rest first?" urged Dan. "I'll do my share of the work, all the time, but I'll admit that I'm tired just now."
"We can divide into two shifts, then," suggested Dick. "As I don't feel very tired, I'll get into the first shift. Tom, do you feel plenty strong?"
"Strong?" sniffed young Reade. "Humph! I'm ready, right now, to meet and vanquish the biggest Bermuda onion that you can produce."
Dave had already started for the door. These three leaders of boydom in Gridley began to ply their shovels vigorously, starting from a point in the path already made to the spring. Working through drifts, in some instances more than six feet deep, it was slow work. After twenty minutes they went back to the cabin, Greg, Harry and Dan coming out to take up the work.
Hen Dutcher was still toiling hard, for he had concluded that industry was the only way to save himself unpleasant happenings.
"How soon are you fellows going to knock off and begin to think about dinner?" demanded Hen.
"When we get good enough appetites, I suppose," laughed Dick.
"Appetites?" sniffed Dutcher. "Huh! I could eat one side of a beef critter, right now."