Jack Winters' Campmates Part 14

And so they chatted and laughed until it was time to turn in again.

CHAPTER XVI

STORM-BOUND

Well, it rained, just as the weather sharp had so wisely predicted.

Steve chanced to be the first to hear the drops begin to patter down on the canvas covering that sheltered them from all inclemencies of the weather. He gave a snort as he sat bolt upright and exclaimed:

"There, didn't I tell you so, fellows; listen to her come down, will you?"

"What's all this row about?" grumbled the sleepy Toby, hardly stirring.

"Why, it's raining, don't you hear?" snorted Steve, as though that might be a wonderful fact.

"Let her rain pitchforks for all I care," grunted Toby. "Lie down and go to sleep again, can't you, Steve? What do we care, when this tent is guaranteed waterproof? Besides, haven't we taken all precautions? Only old Moses will get wet, and it isn't going to hurt him any. So please go to sleep again, and leave me alone. I was having the most wonderful dream, and beating the whole crowd at skating for a wonderful prize of a pair of silver-plated skates, when you had to go and spoil the whole show. Now I'll never get those skates, that's sure."

All through the balance of that night the rain continued to come steadily down. At least it was no great storm, with accompanying wind and the cras.h.i.+ng of thunder. When morning came it was a dismal outlook that they saw, peeping from the tent. The rain was still falling, and a leaden gray sky overhead gave promise of a hopelessly long and wet day.

Steve had fetched along a rubber coat and boots, so that one of them could go and come on errands, without getting soaked. Moses must be fed, to begin with, and there would be numerous trips to make between tent and supply wagon.

The fire was started in the little camp stove used by the photographer when he took his annual pilgrimage through the country, in search of lovely views to add to a collection he was making that would be an art treasure when he had completed it.

"Say, that works mighty fine, let me tell you!" declared Toby, when the grateful heat from the stove began to render the interior of the big tent very comfortable. "We'll have no trouble keeping as snug as three bugs in a rug, with that sheet-iron contraption to help out."

"And," added Steve, "the oven is getting hot already. I really believe I can do that baking today, boys; so make up your minds to eat some of the jolliest biscuits you ever put between your teeth. I made sure to carry all the ingredients along, barring none."

"I notice that an arrangement comes with the stove so that you can burn kerosene if wood isn't handy," remarked Jack; "which makes it all the more valuable as a camp auxiliary. Lots of times wood is out of the question, but you can get plenty of oil."

At that Steve began to chuckle.

"What strikes you as being so funny, Steve?" demanded Toby, who was amusing himself by starting breakfast on the little stove, as though not meaning to let Steve do _all_ the cooking while on their camping trip.

"Oh! I was only thinking of that old saying about carrying coals to Newcastle, you know--which place is the head coal centre over in England. It would seem pretty much that way for fellows to lug a big can of kerosene away up here, when the ground is actually reeking with the stuff in an unrefined state. Perhaps it'd be possible to find a little pond of the same, and dip up all you'd want to use."

"One thing I'm hoping won't happen, at any rate while we're up here,"

Toby now went on to say, reflectively; "and that is to have the woods get afire. Whee! if that ever did happen, goodbye to Miss Priscilla's gold mine, in the way of an oil gusher bonanza; for the whole country might get ablaze."

"Not much danger of that, I guess," Jack a.s.sured him. "The traces of oil we've seen must be only seepage. The main supply is hidden far down in the earth, and until wells are sunk will stay there safe."

After all, it was very cozy there in the tent as long as the stove burned. Fortunately the rain came from another direction, so they could have the flat open, and so get a fair amount of light and air. The table could be dispensed with during the time they were thus imprisoned, for being agile boys they did not consider it much of a hards.h.i.+p to curl their legs under them, tailor fas.h.i.+on, while they discussed their breakfast.

Steve later on got out a book of travel and adventure which he had fetched along for a rainy day, but which, previously, he had not thought to look at. As the morning began to pa.s.s he lay there on his blanket and devoured the graphic account of hards.h.i.+ps endured by some dauntless party of explorers who had sought the region of the frozen Antarctic, and come very near losing their lives while there. Now and again Steve would s.h.i.+ver and ask Toby if he wouldn't please drop the flap of the tent a little.

"Not much I will," protested that worthy, vigorously. "It's hot enough in here now nearly to cook a fellow, and none too light, either. Suppose you tuck away that book of the ice regions, which is what makes you shake all over when you're reading about the terrible cold they endured.

Keep it for a sizzling hot day, Steve, when it'll do you good to s.h.i.+ver a little."

"Huh! guess I might as well," grunted the other, as though convinced.

"Besides, it's getting on toward eleven, I reckon, and I really ought to be thinking of starting my baking."

"You're away off this time, Steve," laughed Jack, who had a little nickle watch along with him, though he seldom carried it on his person, "because right now it is only a quarter to ten."

"Oh! what a long day this promises to be," groaned Steve.

"Can't beat yesterday in my opinion," claimed Toby. "I actually thought the sun was nailed fast up there in the sky, because it didn't seem to move an inch."

"That's because you were on the job every second," Jack told him. "A watched pot never boils, they used to say; but of course it meant that the water seemed to take an unusual time in bubbling."

So Steve yawned, and lolled in his blanket, until finally Jack told him he might as well get busy if they expected to have a feast of camp biscuits for lunch.

It was no easy task which Steve had set himself. First of all he insisted on going out and fetching the rude table inside the tent, even if it did crowd them a trifle.

"However could you expect a _chef_ to make biscuits, with never a table to work at?" he threw at Toby when the latter ventured to complain; and of course after that they allowed Steve to have his own way, though Toby hung around to quiz him, until the other ordered him off.

"You'll queer these delicacies if you bother me any more, Toby," he told him severely. "Our cook says you ought almost to hold your breath when making them, because it's always easy for them to drop. Mebbe she was jos.h.i.+ng me, but I don't want to be bothered and forget to put the baking powder or the salt in."

Toby kept a roaring fire going, and finally the pan of biscuits was popped into the oven. Steve looked a bit anxious, realizing that his reputation as a cook was now at stake.

"Since we've got this table inside here," spoke up Jack, "we might as well make all the use of it we can, chucking it out again in the rain when supper is over. Here's a box one can sit on, and we'll rig up seats for the others somehow."

"Hurrah!" cried Steve, on hearing this. "That gives my legs a chance to keep out of snarls. I never could curl up like some fellows. But I wonder how they're coming on inside the oven?"

"What, your legs?" exclaimed Toby, jeeringly; "why, I didn't know we were going to be treated to roast _mutton_ today, did you, Jack?"

Steve took a peep.

"Believe me, they're beginning to turn a light brown already; and say, they look as light as any Mary Ann ever made at our house," was his joyous announcement.

He seemed to act as though the fate of nations depended on the successful issue of his first camp baking. Indeed, Toby was secretly almost as much concerned as Steve, for he dearly loved hot biscuits, and counted himself a pretty good judge of them.

To dismiss the subject, it may be said that Steve's experiment turned out to be a success. Jack congratulated him on making such dainty biscuits; while Toby declared that the proof of the pudding lay in the eating; and the fact that he was making such desperate inroads on the stack that graced the dish in the center of the table showed his appreciation.

So Steve was made very happy, and readily promised that there would be no lack of fresh bread while the stock of flour held out, and that dandy little stove was in working order.

The afternoon proved terribly long to all of them. Sometimes they would take turns at dozing, for the patter of the rain among the leaves, and on the canvas above their heads, made a sort of lullaby that induced sleep. Several times the rain would die out for a short time, only to make a fresh start again after exciting false hopes.

"Well," observed Jack, as evening drew on apace, "we might have been a whole lot worse off. The tent hasn't leaked a drop, that I've noticed; and thanks to the stove we've been comfortable enough. Let's hope it'll rain itself out during the night, and give us a chance to get moving tomorrow."

This did not prove to be the case, for it turned out to be one of those easterly storms that usually last the better part of three days, with almost a constant downpour, though not very heavy at any time.

When another day came, it was still dark and gloomy, though not raining just then. They managed to get a chance to stretch themselves outside before it set in again. Steve was the one who did most of the complaining, though Toby grumbled quite a bit also.

Along toward noon, it brightened up some. Toby even declared with bated breath that he fancied he glimpsed a tiny patch of blue sky, "large enough to make a pair of trousers."