For the next few days the two boys were busy about the farm and garden, Roger helping Adrian as much as he could in the various tasks the country boy had to look after, or which he undertook of his own accord. When there was nothing else to do they gathered old bones, until they had quite a heap back of the barn. One day the collector came from the fertilizer factory and paid Adrian two dollars for what there was, and the boys were as much pleased as older persons would have been over a larger sum.
Thus the time passed for several weeks, during which the remainder of the crops were gathered in. The potatoes were stored in bins in the cellar, and along side of them were the beets, the turnips, the carrots, the cabbages and onions; enough vegetables, Roger thought, to feed a regiment. Barrels of apples were stowed away in dark corners, with the promise of many pies and dishes of sauce. The swing shelves of the cellar groaned and squeaked under the weight of canned fruit,—peaches, pears, quinces, plum-sauce, apple-butter, and grape jelly,—and it was quite a treat for the boys to go down and gaze at the rows of glass jars which held the sweets in reserve.
The barn was well filled with hay, the oat-bin bulged with fodder, and the silo, where the cornstalks were kept as feed for the cows, seemed like to split apart with its rich contents. The corn-crib, through the openings on the sides, showed a wealth of golden grains, which indicated not only johnny-cake for the house, but plenty of eating for the chickens. In short, there was every indication that whatever else happened there would be no lack of meals in the Kimball home that winter.
While grim care was not altogether absent from Mr. Kimball, owing to the fear that his money matters were hopelessly involved, he seemed to have lost some of his outward signs of worry. He became more cheerful, and as the days went by and the others tried to imitate his example, the household was a more happy place. At any rate, nothing was likely to happen until spring, and by that time something might turn up. At least that is what they all hoped.
The weather was getting colder now, the mornings being rather raw and chill, though there was an invigorating feeling in the air which was noticeably absent from the atmosphere of the city. The nights, too, had grown frosty, though so far only a thin white coating on the ground had greeted the boys as they crawled, shivering, out of bed. But winter was at hand and its coming was anticipated by the animals who, in the woods and fields, were busy laying up their food supplies.
One evening, when Roger and Adrian were returning from Hank Mack's store, they noticed the clear brightness of the stars overhead.
"Whew!" whistled Adrian, as he turned his coat collar up, "there's going to be a black frost to-night," and he ran on a few steps, with hops and jumps, to warm up his blood.
"What's a black frost?" asked Roger.
"I don't know, only that's what they call it when it freezes real hard and there ain't any white frost on the ground. A white frost is a white frost, and a black frost is a black frost, that's all I know."
"And you think there'll be a black frost to-night?"