"Supper!" yelled the intruder lustily.
"It's the cook's night off," jeered young Prescott.
"Oh, it is, hey?" roared the big fellow. "I'll show you."
Jumping to his feet, snatching up the chair on which he had been sitting, and holding it above his head, Mr. Fits charged.
The crisis in the affair had arrived.
CHAPTER X
IN THE GRIP OF THE BIG BLIZZARD
ICK Prescott was squarely in the way. He didn't flinch or dodge, either.