He drew up to the entrance, and the boys jumped out, a trifle stiff after their long ride.
Silas Riggs was "right glad" to see them. His son, a sturdy young specimen of humanity, ambled forward and surveyed them with a frank, good-natured stare.
Arrangements were quickly made for rooms and supper.
Silas Riggs was a jolly old fellow, and told jolly stories—which was better, and the evening passed very quickly indeed. The boys were reluctant to leave the nice, cheerful stove and pleasant room. The wind had sprung up, and, as it moaned and sighed around the corner of the "Backwoods Hotel," sending the old sign creaking forth and back, to mingle its dismal sound with the soughing of the tree-tops, it made the comfortable interior seem all the more agreeable.
But the boys were anxious to get up early next morning, so they bade Silas Riggs and several of the guests a cheery good-night and repaired to their rooms.
Immediately after breakfast, boxes and packages were opened.
"We ought to be well fixed, with all that stuff," observed Dick Travers.
"Rubber blankets enough to start a store," put in Sam.
"An' you'll need 'em," drawled Silas, Junior. "Cold—h'm; an' jest wait till a blizzard gets a-going. An'—an'—but I don't want to scare you fellers none."
"Don't stop on our account, Silas, old boy," laughed Nat; "we're ready for anything that comes along."