With the General's assistance they set to work. Two large logs were laid on each sledge, with a third log on the top, and some brush that Max said would do for Uncle Simon's kindling wood.
"Eight boys to a sledge, four on each side, with a firm grasp on the strap, and no racing, unless—well, unless you have to keep up with the other sledge," commanded the General. "Now on with your skates again."
"Can you skate, General?" asked Gordon.
"Skate? Of course I can. Brigade is a pretty high-sounding name for so small a company, but we shall do the work of one."
"The fire is pretty low," said Jack, regretfully, as he looked at the fast-dying flames.
"I don't care," said Hugh Bently. "Uncle Simon sha'n't suffer from cold if I can help it."
Before starting off, General Washington produced a large covered basket from behind a log. This he placed on the front of one of the sledges, and secured firmly. He said that it was his present to Uncle Simon.
While these scenes were being enacted at the Curve, Uncle Simon, in his cottage at the Ledge, sat by his hearth, looking despondently into the fire that was fast disappearing up the chimney in smoke. His thoughts ran something in this way:
"I shall have to go to bed pretty soon and stay there to keep warm. No more wood, and nothin' to eat in the house."
Here a twinge of rheumatism made him screw up his face, and his thoughts became, in consequence, still more bitter.