Herman Boyd entered, fuel bearing. He brought a report, too, that between the old fence and a fallen tree near by there need be no lack of fire-wood.
Sam cut pieces from the old carpet, and stuffed them into the holes in the windows. Orkney, taking a hint, replaced the door in position.
“Say, you two!” Step called out. “You act as if you thought we were going to make a regular visit.”
“Maybe we are,” Sam told him. “We’d be crazy to go on while the blizzard lasts.”
“Right you are!” Step agreed, but drew a long face.
For a moment the boys listened to the howl of the gale. Then Poke settled himself on the floor near the fire.
“Might as well make yourselves comfortable, fellows,” he remarked. “I’d rather be here than outside, I tell you!”
The Shark followed his example, and so did the Trojan and Step. Orkney and Sam took opposite ends of the semicircle. Poke was smiling a sickly smile.
“I believe in making the best of things,” he announced. “I’m not exactly happy—my ankle hurts and my nose’ll never be the same to me that it was—but I’m not kicking. I’m glad to be here, as I’ve explained. But how long do you expect to linger in this bower, Sam?”
“I think we’ll have to stay all night, anyway.”