"Are you, Dick Prescott?" insisted Fred.
"Don't you dare go to spreading this yarn around Gridley!"
"I won't promise," Dick made answer. "I don't want to carry tales if I can help it, but we're bound to report to your father that the cook shack was burned down while we were here."
"You can tell my father that it was your own carelessness, and let it go at that," suggested Ripley.
"Humph! I like the cool nerve of your idea," Dick jeered.
"That's what you'll tell my father, if you know what's good for you," Fred went on. "That's all I've got to say, but you'll be sorry if you don't take my advice."
Though the temperature was some degrees below zero in the forest that evening, none of the boys near the log cabin felt at all cold. The shack, whose roof soon fell in, still burned briskly enough to keep all hands warm.
"Watch your chance to dart into the cabin when you see me start. Move fast when the time comes. Tell Tom and Harry when you get a chance, but don't let the Ripley crowd suspect."
Dick then found chance to pass the message to Greg and Dan.