 CHAPTER X When Light Houses Are Dark, by Ethel C. Brill, The snow ceased to fall before sunset, and another very cold night followed. The morning was bright and still. This looks like the great kind of a day, said Lawrence, as the four were eating breakfast. But we can't be certain in this sheltered place, I'll go out to the end of the point and see. You'd better hurry then, we don't want to lose any time, if there's any chance of crossing. I'll be back before the rest of you are ready to leave. There was so much ice between the little island and the fishing station that Larry had trouble getting through, but he finally made a landing and hastened out to the point. The lake was smooth as far as he could see, so he hurried back again. Before he reached the clearing where the buildings stood, he came upon another track in the snow, branching off from his own. He gave a long whistle of surprise and stood staring. The marks were much larger than hair-tracks. They looked suspiciously like human footprints. What in the world, he exclaimed. He knew Ralph could not have followed him. There was no boat left on the little island except the one in the shed, and Ralph could hardly have dragged that down to the water alone. Larry was in a hurry but curiosity triumphed, and he followed the prince. They led through the woods for a little way and then stopped suddenly at the foot of a spruce. The boy looked about him. Several masses of snow had fallen from the laden branches, but there was no other disturbance of the smooth white ground covering. Not even a squirrel-track was to be seen. He walked around the tree, making his way with difficulty between it and a bare-limbed birch, but he could discover nothing hiding among the branches. He whistled again. That's the queerest thing I ever saw, he thought. Those tracks certainly look like a man's—a man with bigger feet than mine or Ralph's. But where has he gone? Why should he climb that tree? He can't be there still, or I could see him. It isn't big enough or thick enough to hide a man. Well, I must get back. There's no time to be wasted. He retraced his steps, examining the marks as he went. He could not be sure they were a man's footprints. If they were not, there must be a large animal of some kind about. They were not moose tracks, he was very certain. Moreover moose do not climb trees. The thing, whatever it was, had traveled in Larry's own trail. The prince joined it a little above the shore. He traced them far enough to see that they did not come from the water or from the houses but from woods beyond. He felt that he dared not take the time to follow the mysterious trail farther. As he rode to the little island, Lawrence puzzled over the prince. He remembered Margaret's scare several days before. Had she really heard someone prowling about? He and Ralph had laughed at her. Clearly it had been nothing but a hair or the wind in the trees. She must have decided that her fears had been purely imaginary, for she had said nothing more about them. She as well as Ralph would laugh at him for mistaking some tree-climbing animal's tracks for a man's. Larry had not been able to clearly identify the marks as shoe-prints. In the soft, loose snow they were too blurred and irregular. He knew, moreover, that where the feet sink far down in soft snow they are apt to make holes out of proportion to the feet themselves. It was as much the thought of Megs and Ralph's ridicule as the bustle of getting started on the trip to the lighthouse that kept Larry from saying anything about the strange footprints. The day was cold for a long row in an open boat, but the castaways were too anxious to get away to think of discomforts. There was little more than a ripple on the water as they rode past the point where they had waited for the steamer and on between the islands that lay beyond. But when they came out from the shelter of the islands opposite the long high point they encountered more wind. The water did not seem rough enough to be dangerous even for a so small a boat, so they did not hesitate to pull for the open lake. Before they were half a mile beyond the end of the long point, however, they realized that the north wind was freshening. It struck them at an angle and Ralph had to pull harder on his left oar than on his right to keep headed for the distant lighthouse. He rode with a will for he had no intention of turning back if he could help it, but he did not appear to be making much headway. The lighthouse seemed to come no nearer. The wind increased steadily, the waves tossed the little boat about. In his attempts to keep a straight course for the faraway bit of land, Ralph was shipping water frequently, and Larry went to bailing. An unusually big wave swung the boat around. Before Ralph could head it straight another wave slapped the side and came over. Pulling with all his power Ralph succeeded in heading for the lighthouse again, but he could make but little progress. Keeping his course took all his strength, and the water came into the boat faster than Margaret with the can and the boys with their caps could bail it out. Larry paused in his bailing to glance toward the lighthouse. It seemed no larger than it had appeared from opposite the end of the long point. He looked in the other direction and was appalled to see what a short distance they had come. In spite of Ralph's efforts, the bow swung around again. Another big wave slapped the side and came over in a deluge. Turn her, cried Larry, head the other way or we'll be swamped. Ralph obeyed. It's no use, he gasped, the water running down his face. We can't make it. The wind was steady, there was no indication of storm. In a good motorboat they might have made the crossing without real danger. Even in Lawrence's little launch, with its reliable engine, they would have been safe enough. But for the rowboat the situation was fraught with peril, and moreover they were making almost no headway. It must be three or four miles to that lighthouse and the wind freshening every moment. They had no choice but to go back, and that was dangerous enough. Ralph did not dare try to head directly for the harbor mouth, for that would involve going at an angle with the waves again. Instead, he allowed them to carry the boat where they would, using the oars merely to keep it with the wind. Margaret received the worst of the spray as the waves broke on the stern, but the water no longer came into the boat faster than she and Lawrence could bail it out. The wind carried them directly south, past the end of the outermost island in the harbor mouth. During his chance Ralph swung about quickly and pulled for all he was worth for the shelter of that island. He made it, but not before several waves had come into the boat, almost swapping it. Along the lee side of the island, in comparatively smooth water, he rode the almost waterlogged craft, the others bailing industriously. Their first attempt to reach the lighthouse had very nearly ended in disaster. Its regret was almost swallowed up in thankfulness at being safe again. All four were very wet, and had it not been for bailing and rowing, they would have chilled through. They were cold enough in spite of their exercise by the time they reached the cabin. Larry and Ralph made a big fire in the fireplace, and they all dried themselves as well as they could. Unluckily they had no changes of clothes. Unluck was so worried for fear Jack would catch cold that she made him take off his wet things and go to bed. ELEVEN THE WIND CONTINUED TO BLOW HARD THE NEXT DAY, BUT DEARING THE NIGHT IT SHIFTED FROM NORTH TO WEST. This change of direction did not make crossing to the lighthouse any easier, but it did permit a trip along the rocky shore. The water between that shore and the outlying islands showed scarcely more than a ripple. Inactivity was a torment to the anxious castaways, and they decided to take advantage of the opportunity. They had not given up hope that there might be an inhabited fishing station somewhere on that side of the island. They stopped at the fishing camp, and Ralph landed for a few more supplies. As he went between the two cabins he was surprised to notice that the glass was broken out of one of the windows in the smaller house. He had never been in that house, for it was locked, but he felt sure that glass had been intact the last time he saw it. He went up to the window and looked into a small bedroom. He could see that the bed was in tumbled confusion. In the other cabin the young folk had found everything neat and in order, but perhaps the people who lived in this one were not such good housekeepers and had left the bed unmade. There was the broken glass, though. Ralph looked down at the ground under the window. The bright sun of the past few days had melted the snow except in the shadiest and most protected spots. The ground was bare, hard with the frost of the night before and showed no footprints. The lad took another look through the window, then went on to the back door of the other house. He had found a key that fitted the padlock so he had driven the staple in firmly and carried the key in his pocket. Lawrence had laughed at him for locking up so carefully when there was not apparently a human being for miles around. Ralph thought of that now as he unlocked the door and went in. Perhaps there was someone nearby after all and he might be starving. It did not seem right to lock him out from those supplies. He must have seen the smoke from their chimney, though, and if he was a castaway, too, he would surely have knocked at their door. He could easily have crossed in one of Newt Thorsen's rowboats, which were still in the water. No, there could not be anyone around there anywhere. Margaret had thought she heard someone, but it must have been a girl's imagination. Everything in the house was disturbed and Ralph took the bacon and cans of milk Meg had sent for, snapped the padlock, and returned to the boat. It was queer about that broken glass and tumbled bed, but he decided not to say anything about them. There were all sorts of ways a window might be broken. The others would think he was developing nerves. As the rowboat passed through the narrow waterway between the point and the island where the summer resort was, Jack, who was at the bow, cried out suddenly, There's a man! Where! coursed the other three. There! He was pointing towards the island. I don't see him now. It was a man in dark clothes, standing just beyond that house in those trees. There's no one there, Jack, said Larry. You must have been— He broke off suddenly, then laughed. I thought I saw him myself, but it was that stump, do you see? Of course it was, agreed Meg. It does look a little like someone in dark clothes among the trees. It wasn't, insisted Jack. I saw him move his arm. Then I looked away a second to tell you, and he was gone. It must have been the stump, Jack, Ralph replied. It's easy to be mistaken in a thing like that. If you saw anything move it was the branch of a tree or a squirrel jumping. Jack made no answer, but he did not look convinced. The four adventurers rounded the point and rode along the rock shore. The day was fine with a bright sun and cloudless sky. Sheltered from the wind as they were, they would, but for their anxiety, have thoroughly enjoyed the trip. After they passed the other deserted summer resort, the surroundings were new to them, and they watched eagerly for signs of habitation. As they went on, the shore became lower and less rocky, and the woods grew nearer the water. The outlying islands were larger, more thickly wooded, and close enough together to protect the shore and form a real harbor. About as wide again as the one where the castaways had been living. A mile after a mile they rode, landing twice, once on the main shore to examine two small cabins, and again on an island where stood a larger house. They found all three buildings deserted. "'It's time for me to take another turn at those oars, isn't it, Larry?' said Ralph. I wonder how far we've come.' "'I think about—' Larry was interrupted by a little cry from Margaret. She was pointing up the bay. The boys turned their heads. Against the dark colors of the ridge a white tower loomed. "'A lighthouse,' gasped Larry. The sight of that white tower put joy into the hearts of the explorers, and Ralph pulled hard in his eagerness to reach it. For a time no one spoke. Then Lawrence turned in his seat for another look. As he gazed, his face sobered. "'Ralph,' he said quietly. Do you see anything strange about that lighthouse?' Ralph looked over his shoulder. "'Why, I don't know. It's one of the old-fashioned white towers plastered or cemented on the outside. Look at the top. I don't see anything queer about that. Why?' "'Maybe I'm mistaken. We're rather far off yet to make sure.' And that was all Lawrence would say. Now and again as they went on Ralph turned his head to glance curiously at the top of the tower, wondering what Larry had meant. Then suddenly he uttered a sharp exclamation. Lawrence, who had been sitting half-turned in his seat, with his eyes fixed on the lighthouse, looked at him. "'I was right,' he said. The lamp-room is boarded up. That light isn't in use. "'It looks like it, but I don't see how you saw that so far away.' I noticed,' Lawrence replied, that the sun was shining full on that lamp-room, and it suddenly struck me that something looked wrong. The light wasn't reflected as it would be from glass. "'Maybe,' said Ralph, those board shutters are put up in the daytime and taken down at night. I can't see why a lighthouse should be deserted.' "'Nor I,' Larry answered. "'You may be right, though I've seen a good many lighthouses on the lakes, and I never noticed one with shutters on the lamp-room. The lights can't have stopped burning yet, can they? It isn't late enough in the season. The one we tried to reach was shining last night. I went out towards the harbour-mouth after dark to see.' Margaret said nothing, but disappointment and anxiety were plainly written on her face. The tower was not on the right-hand shore, but on the end of a point or island to the left. From the bay side of the point a dock extended. "'We'd better land there,' said Lawrence. As they drew near, log-buildings came into view. "'Oh,' cried Margaret, it's another fishing-camp. There must be someone there.' But no one was to be seen. No boats were in sight, and the big reels on the shore stretched out their arms bare of nets. The moment the row-boat touched the dock, Jack jumped out and ran up to the house. By the time the others had disembarked, he was back again. "'There's no one at home,' he said. "'Perhaps they're out looking after the nets,' Margaret would not give up hope until she was forced to. A few minutes of investigation, however, showed that the camp was deserted. The house is locked. The boat's up for the winter. "'They've gone for the season,' said Ralph. "'I wonder if that steamboat took them off Monday, or perhaps last week when I saw her coming this way. She must have come up here for something. Let's try the lighthouse.' They entered the boat again, rowed around a great rock that projected into the lake, and came to a short stretch of pebble beach. The lighthouse stood back from the beach, only a little way up from the water. "'It's closed,' said Lawrence, his voice dull with discouragement. There are shutters on the windows.' "'Not on all of them,' exclaimed Meg. "'Perhaps part of the building is occupied.' It was useless to deny the deserted appearance of the place. Ralph ran the boat up on the beach. The four jumped out, climbed the abrupt low bank, which had been reinforced with timbers to keep it from crumbling away, and crossed a bit of open ground sparingly covered with coarse grass. There was no answer to their knocks. They went around the house, and Ralph pounded energetically on the back door. "'The place is closed all right,' he said. "'Hello, here's the key and the lock. Someone's been careless.' He opened the door and looked into the little kitchen, a rusty stove, a couple of wooden chairs, an old table, and a few cooking utensils were the only furniture. "'We might as well take a look around,' he said, and the others followed him in. From the kitchen a narrow passage led to the tower stair, and on either side of this passage rooms opened. In the corner one was an iron bed with a mattress, but no bedding, and in the adjoining room there was a table covered with white oil cloth, several chairs and a fireplace built of native stone. The other rooms were empty of furniture. Some but not all of the windows were covered with wooden shutters. Up a winding stairway with worn steps and lighted by narrow windows like slits, then up a short ladder the disappointed castaways climbed to the lamp room. The lamp and glass had been taken out, and the space is covered with boards, but a door led to a narrow railed platform that ran around the tower. From there the explorers had a fine view across the tops of the trees at the rear of the lighthouse, and out over the lake in the other direction. No more fishing camps or houses were to be seen. Silently the four went back down the stairs and threw the passage to the kitchen. Lawrence was the first to speak. "'This place isn't merely closed for the winter,' he said. "'It isn't used at all any more, at least not as a lighthouse. If we had come up here before those fishermen left, but now,' he did not finish his sentence. "'Now,' said Meg quickly, we had better have lunch. It's long after time. If you'll make a fire in this old stove I'll fry some bacon.' The boys tried to respond to her gallant attempt at cheerfulness. In spite of their disappointment they all ate heartily and felt better afterwards. It was picking up after the meal when a shout from Ralf, who had wandered into one of the other rooms, made her drop her work. "'Come and see what I've discovered,' he called. The others found him standing before a large chart that hung on the wall of the room with the fireplace. "'See here,' he exclaimed. "'Here is exactly where we are.' The chart included Thunder Bay with its shores and islands and the whole of the big island where the castaways were stranded. They found the bay they had first entered, the ridge they had crossed, the harbor where they had been staying. Lying to the northeast of the long high point was an island with the lighthouse they had tried to reach. "'Here's the way we came this morning,' said Ralf, tracing their course up the outer harbor. "'And here's where we are now,' he pointed to the words "'Lighthouse discontinued.' They studied that chart with fascinated interest. It seemed like a connecting link with the rest of the world. They sought for the other boat landing, five hours from Smith Harbor, and found it at the extreme southwest end of the long island. "'We never in the world could get there by rowboat,' said Lawrence. "'It's at least forty miles and an exposed shore all the way.' "'The fishing stations aren't marked, though,' Ralf suggested. "'We may find a live one yet.' Larry shook his head. "'I doubt it. It's after the middle of November. I'm afraid the fishing season for this island is over.' "'There's a little bay just beyond here,' remarked Ralf, pointing to the map, and another one farther along. "'Let's row around and see what they're like. They must be well sheltered for they run back into the island.' In neither of the bays did the explorers find any signs of life. The first one, which lay just southeast of the lighthouse point, was less than a half mile long with steep rock sides. To reach the second bay they were obliged to row along an open shore unprotected by islands, but with the wind in the southwest they had no difficulty. This bay cut into the land for a mile or more, and they went clear to the head where a little stream emptied. The sun was sinking when they came out, and the wind had changed. It was now blowing from the south. "'It's no use trying to go any farther tonight,' said Ralf. "'The wind's against us. We'll have to go back and camp.' The water had ruffled, but the wind, striking the stern, helped to take the boat towards the lighthouse. There a tiny rock island partly sheltered the beach. Entering the old building the castaways set about making themselves comfortable for the night. The boys took down the iron bedstead, moved it into the room where the fireplace was and set it up again. This room they assigned to Margaret and Jack. For their own beds they cut evergreen branches and spread them in one corner of the kitchen. While Meg was getting the evening meal the lads climbed a short stairway that led from the hall near the front door to the upper story of the old house. They glanced into the rooms but found them bare of furniture of any kind. Margaret had remembered to bring some candles so they had light enough to eat by. As there were only the two steamer rugs for bed covers, the boys made good fires in the fireplace and stove. The wind, which had grown stronger since sunset, howled and whistled around the old building, and the waves kept up a continuous roaring on the rocks beyond. These sounds and the strangeness of her position in the lonely lighthouse made Margaret wakeful for a while. She felt an uneasy fear that there might be someone hidden in those dark silent rooms. The feeling was foolish, she knew, for the boys had found nothing there. So she shook off her uneasiness and sank at last into a dreamless sleep, from which she did not wake till Ralph pounded on her door. The morning was gloomy and she could hear rain beating against the window. End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII. WHEN LIGHTHOUSES ARE DARK, BY UTHOLSEE BRILL. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. XII. BACK TO THE CABIN. They can't go on in this downpour, said Ralph at breakfast. The wind was in the east, blowing the rain in violent gusts against the old building. There was nothing for the castaways to do, but to make themselves as comfortable as they could. The older boys and Margaret spent most of the day studying the chart and discussing their next move. At first Ralph was in favor of going on along shore. The chart showed a lighthouse less than half way to the other end of the island, and he suggested that they try to reach it. Lawrence shook his head doubtfully. That lighthouse is about twice as far from here as we came yesterday, he said. All the way is along an unsheltered coast, too, without even an outlying island for protection. We couldn't reach it unless the wind was in the west and stayed there. If it shifted, and you know how often it does shift on this lake, we'd have to land if we were near a place where we could land. Even if we succeeded in making a landing, there's no knowing how long we might be stormbound without food or shelter. We might have to walk clear back to Smith Harbour. How do you think we could do that without anything to eat? Suppose we were lucky enough to reach a place along shore opposite that lighthouse. We should have to cross about three miles of open water to get to it. Does it lie that far out? Almost three. According to the scale on the chart, Larry replied after measuring carefully. It seems to me that we stand a much better chance of reaching the light off the northeast end of the island. It's nearly as far from here, to be sure, but we have fairly well sheltered water to the point, and then newt-thorsen supplies to keep us while we're waiting for good weather. We might be stranded on the shore down there and wait for a week for the wind to let us go that three miles. Perhaps we could signal the lighthouse people to come for us. No more easily than we could in the other place. It's almost as far from the shore out to that light as it is from the end of the long point to the other one. They discussed the subject from every angle without reaching a conclusion. In the meanwhile the storm continued, and before evening the rain had turned to sleet. When Margaret chilled and stiff from sleeping on a bare mattress with only her rug over her, looked out of the window next morning she found that the rain had ceased, but the weather had not cleared. The wind still blew from the northeast. The sky was cloudy, the water a sullen gray except where the crusts of the waves broke in foam. Not much prospect of going on to-day, said Ralph, when he joined the boys in the kitchen. He and Lawrence had been out to look at sky and water. They can't go back either until the wind changes or goes down, added Larry. The bay is rough. We only brought food enough for three days, Meg looked very grave. We'd better put ourselves on half rations to leave something for tomorrow. Though going in either direction by water was out of the question, the castaways were restless. The boys cut up some driftwood for fuel, but after that task was done they could not settle down to inaction. Following a trail through the woods Ralph and Lawrence went over to the fishing camp. From there they scrambled along the shore of the point far enough to get a view of the head of the bay. The place was utterly wild, woods and rocks, with some low ground and a patch of rushes. After a scanty lunch the four sat out along the shore in the opposite direction. On the northwest side of the little bay they had visited the day before was a ridge and extending along it was a road, a rock clearing bordered by evergreen forest. This natural path they followed to the head of the bay and beyond for a little way where the rock ridge penetrated a swamp. The swamp lay on both sides of them, a dense tangle of standing tamaracks, spruces and big arborvita or white cedars, fallen in decayed trunks and undergrowth. It was a wild, lonely place, savage and gloomy under the dull gray sky. The explorers were glad to turn back from it, even the wave battered rocks of the shore seemed friendly by comparison. By the time the four reached the lighthouse again the clouds had broken and the sun was coming through. The prospect of getting away next day was more encouraging, but there was no longer any question which way they should go. They had not the provisions to go on. They must turn back. That day was Sunday. Tomorrow would be boat day again. The steamer they had seen the week before had been coming in this direction although she was running outside the islands. Would she come again tomorrow? Would it not be best to wait until after time for her? She was not likely to put in to the fishing camp, but might it not be possible to signal her from the tower? The subject furnished material for discussion all that evening. Monday morning dawned clear and still and cold. There was much ice in the harbour above the fishing camp. Except for the ice the day was favourable for the return trip, but the castaways had decided to remain until afternoon in the hope of signalling the steamboat. Even if the wind came up in the meantime it was not likely they thought to shift to east or northeast so soon after the clearing of the skies. It might blow hard from the west or even from the north without interfering much with their row down the harbour. Miss and Ralph spent most of the morning on the balcony at the top of the tower with the aid of the chart they had figured that if it took the steamer five hours including stops to go from Smith harbour to the dock at the southwestern end of the island it could not possibly take her an hour to come from Smith harbour as far as the old lighthouse. Lawrence argued, however, that at this time of year she could not be expected to run close to schedule and might even be far ahead of time. The forenoon passed slowly. Several times the watching boys caught sight of distant lines of smoke across the water to south or east or northeast, so far away that the boat was either not visible at all or showed merely as two apparently disconnected specks, the high bow and stern of long steel freighter. Once they could just distinguish a sailing vessel, one of the old foremasters so seldom seen in nowadays on the Great Lakes. At two o'clock they gave up their watch. If they were to take advantage of the weather and reach Smith harbour before dark, they must start at once. They no longer had any thought of going on. Lunch had consisted of a very small portion of cornmeal mush with a little canned milk. They had not dared to eat quite all of their provisions for fear something might prevent them from getting back to their storehouse that night. Everything in the old lighthouse was left in good order. The boys being especially careful to scrape every ember and bit of ashes out of the stove and fireplace. Shall I leave this key in the door as I found it? asked Ralph. I suppose you might as well. Lawrence replied. I don't know, though. It might rust in the lock. Better put it on the table and leave the door unlocked. Someone might be wrecked along this shore and be looking for shelter. The trip down the harbour was almost without incident. In spite of the bright sun the day was cold, but the water was smooth almost to the point. There a choppy sea was troublesome but not really dangerous. The sun had set and it was growing dark when Ralph and Lawrence climbed out of the boat at the fisherman's dock. Ralph unlocked the door of the house and the two went in and lighted a hand lamp. In the storeroom Ralph looked about him in perplexity. Surely someone had been in there since he was their last. He did not leave that sack of potatoes untied or spill those beans on the floor. He could not be sure that anything was missing, for he had never counted the hams and sides of bacon or the canned things. He tried to remember whether he had pried the cover off that box of prunes. Either he or Larry must have done so, for they had used some prunes, but had they left the cover broken and splintered lying on the floor? The box was nearly empty. They had not taken that many prunes, he was sure. Ralph said nothing to Lawrence, who was picking out the things Margaret had told them to get, but after lighting a candle he proceeded to examine the rest of the house. He expected to find a broken window, but a glance showed him that all were intact. The beds had not been disturbed. The drawer of a dresser was open, but Meg might have been looking for something she needed and have left it that way. He had just concluded that everything was as it had been when he felt a draft of sharp air and noticed that one of the windows was open about an inch at the bottom. If anyone had entered the house he must have come in that way. Ralph closed the window, which had no lock, and returned to the storeroom. How do you suppose that sack got opened and those beans spilled, he asked Larry? I suppose you did it the last time you were here. The latter answered, you were in a hurry, you know. Ralph did not reply directly, but asked another question. Do squirrels eat prunes? Why I don't know, but I shouldn't be surprised. Red squirrels will eat almost anything that comes their way. Why? And Larry shot him a quick glance. Oh, I thought that prune box looked as if something had been into it. There may be rats in the house. It was Jack's man, replied Lawrence, laughing. Stumps don't eat prunes, I'm sure of that, Ralph retorted. Nothing more was said as the two gathered up the supplies and returned to the boat, Ralph locking the door as usual. When they landed at the little island, Larry hurried to the house with Margaret, while Jack remained behind to help Ralph unload the boat and pull it up on shore. Well, said Meg, as she glanced around the living room after Lawrence had lightened the lamp, I thought I left this room in better shape. I must have been in a hurry to get away, to leave things tumbled about on the shelves like that. I told Ralph to be sure to take those ashes out of the fireplace, she added, but he must have forgotten to do it. She went on into the kitchen. Lawrence kindled a fire using some bark and wood they had left in the wood box. There was less of it than he expected to find. Then he took the lamp and went into the bedroom that he shared with Ralph and Jack. He felt vaguely uneasy, he did not know why. Ralph must have been in a hurry Friday, he thought, to leave ashes on the hearth and his cot unmade. Larry heard Margaret in the next room and remembered that he had not lighted the kitchen fire. I'm coming, Meg, he called, and went into the living room. Meg was not there. The front door stood half open. It must have been Jack, I heard, he thought. He closed the door and went into the kitchen. Did Jack come in, he asked? No, replied Margaret. Did you go out the front door for anything? No, she answered again in surprise. Why? I thought I heard someone going out or coming in just now when I was in the bedroom, he explained. Of course I was mistaken. Just then Ralph hammered on the back door. Meg opened it and the two boys came in with their arms full. Lawrence slipped back into the living room and shot the bolt on the door. He was thinking of the tracks that looked like a man's. He took the lamp and looked into Margaret's bedroom, then into his own again. Evidently he saw nothing to disturb him, for he set the lamp on the table and went back to the kitchen. He was just in time to hear Meg ask. Did you rummage these kitchen shelves for anything before we left Friday, Ralph? No, of course not. I thought I left them in better order. I must have been a little crazy that morning, I think. End of Chapter 12, Chapter 13 When Lighthouses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 13. The Lights Go Out That night was very cold and the castaways woke next morning to find themselves frozen in. From their island across to the shore and as far down the harbor as they could see, the ice extended, but investigation proved that it was not strong enough to bear their weight. It's just our luck, exclaimed Ralph. This is a good day to cross to the lighthouse, but we'll have to smash away for the boat through all that ice. We've got to make the attempt, though. Before starting out, the boys decided to cross to the point, to see how the water looked from there. With an axe they cut out the thicker ice around the boat. Then each took an ore and one in the bow, the other in the stern, they attempted to break up the thin ice and to paddle along. They had gone but a short distance when Ralph, who was standing in the bow, reached too far with his ore, just as Larry sent the boat ahead suddenly. Ralph lost his balance and went head first over the side, nearly capsizing the boat. Hampered by his heavy clothes and numbed with the chill of the icy water, he could neither swim to shore nor climb into the boat without overturning it. In an instant Larry realized that there was only one way to save his friend, to row back to the island while Ralph clung to the boat. Fortunately Ralph had held on to his ore. Larry secured it and ordering Ralph to hold fast, he pulled with all his strength. It was but a few strokes to shore and they had cleared a water way. Nevertheless, by the time they reached the dock, Ralph was so numb all over that Larry had all he could do to drag him from the water, get him to the house, and strip him of his dripping clothes. Vigorously he rubbed the body and limbs of the almost frozen boy while Margaret heated his cot with flat irons wrapped in papers. He ought to have some sort of a hot drink, she said anxiously, after Ralph was tucked under the blankets. Make some strong tea, suggested Lawrence, and give it to him as hot as he can swallow it. Some Arctic explorers never use any other stimulant. I know, replied Meg quickly, I've heard Uncle Frank tell of giving it to men who were nearly frozen. There's some in the kitchen. Thanks to the prompt action of Lawrence and Margaret, Ralph suffered no bad effects from his plunge into the bitterly cold water. He insisted that his clothes be dried at once so that the trip across to the lighthouse might not be delayed more than a few hours. Although Lawrence hung Ralph's clothes so close to the fire that he nearly scorched them, it was afternoon before they were ready to be worn. Meanwhile Larry had crossed to the fishing camp, making his way very carefully, and had gone out to the point. He had found the prospect favorable. The day was so cold that the sun made little impression on the ice, with four in the boat breaking away through was hard work. By the time they reached open water beyond the point, the sky was clouding over and a gusty wind was blowing. Before the outermost end of the last island was passed, they knew it was useless to try to go farther. The sky was dark with clouds, the wind was blowing and gusts, shifting from north to northeast and back again, in treacherous uncertainty. The water was choppy and snow was beginning to fall. Thoroughly disheartened, they made their way back to the little cabin, chilled and miserable. The next morning snow was still coming down, the fine, dry snow of cold weather. Another week of November remained, but the harbor had taken on a truly wintery appearance. In the afternoon the snow ceased falling, and a sharp wind from the northwest blew away the clouds. By the following day the ice was firm from island to shore. To make a way through it for the boat would be difficult indeed. The wind was still blowing briskly, but it lessened towards evening and hope rose again in the castaway's hearts. Just as the sun was sinking, Lawrence said to Ralph, come out to the end of the long point with me, won't you? What do you want? began Ralph, then glanced at his friend quickly. All right, he said. How are we going to get there? We'll try crossing to the summer resort island, then from there to that island to the left of it and over to the point. If the ice is strong enough to hold us that far, we can keep on close to shore. Telling Margaret they might be late for the evening meal, the two boys went out. By walking carefully and testing the ice ahead before they trusted it with their full weight, they managed to reach the long point. With the exception of a short stretch where the point was not protected by islands and where they were obliged to scramble along rocks and stony beaches, they found the ice firm along shore, almost to the end. Darkness had fallen when they reached the end of the point. The night was clear without fog or haze. Eagerly, they gazed towards the lighthouse. No light was to be seen either there or in the direction of the belbowy. For more than an hour the lads waited in the clear cold winter night. They tramped up and down, swinging their arms to keep warm and turning again and again in the direction of the lighthouse, hoping to see the light shine out. All was darkness. The only light came from the stars and the pale glow of a faint white aurora in the northern and western sky. The lamps were out. The keepers had been taken back to shore in the lighthouse tender. It was of no use to try to cross now. It can't be that all the lights on the lake go dark as early as this, said Ralph. No, the closing of navigation varies a good deal in different places, and of course it comes at different times in the same place according to the weather. The two boys turned to their backs on the harbor mouth and started on the long cold tramp to the cabin. They had two miles or more to go, but they scarcely spoke all the way. Each one was struggling with the appalling thought of the long months of hardship before them. The loneliness and desolation of the silent harbor lay heavy on them, and the occasional wailing cry of an owl somewhere in the dark woods, the only sound that broke the stillness, added to their sense of depression. Margaret had guessed what their errand was, and one look at their faces as they entered the cabin told her that the light was out. She did not say much, but bustled about, getting the delayed meal ready. Under the influence of the hot food and the cheerful crackling fire, the feelings of discouragement and despair wore off somewhat. After their long waiting and anxiety, there was indeed a certain sense of relief in the fact that the question of rescue or escape seemed definitely answered. They had done their best to get away. A 40-mile trip in a small rowboat across the Wintry Lake was not to be considered at all. There was just a chance that a freighter might be signaled. The boats did not all cease running when the going out of the lights gave notice of the official closing of navigation and the cancelling of all insurance. The boys decided to put up some sort of a signal on the high point and then to turn their thoughts and energies to making themselves as comfortable as possible. "'We don't want to think about the loneliness and all that,' said Lawrence. "'We'll have work enough to do to keep warm and fed, and we must stop worrying about what is going to happen to us and take things as they come. After all, we aren't in nearly so bad a case as we might be, thanks to Newt Thorson.' "'That's certainly true,' Margaret replied bravely. "'There's plenty of food, and that's the main thing. It won't be more than four or five months till the boats are running again, and that isn't so awfully long. "'We'll come through all right if we don't lose our nerve,' Ralph added. "'This cabin is comfortable, and fuel is easy to get. "'We'll make our clothes last somehow if we have to dress in the blankets. "'You're always talking about adventures,' put in Jack, who had been listening intently. "'I guess we're having them now.' "'We sure are,' his brother agreed. "'We're in for a mighty big one, so it's no use whining about it. "'I'm dead sleepy, and I'm going to bed this minute.' "'The others followed his example, and somewhat to their surprise, they all slept soundly and almost dreamlessly. "'End of Chapter 13.' "'Chapter 14. "'When Light Houses Are Dark.' "'By Ethel C. Brill.' "'This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.' "'14. Preparing for winter.' "'The boys had found a good-sized United States flag in the cabin, and they decided to raise it as a signal. "'So the next morning they went back to the end of the long point and selected a tall, straight spruce that stood isolated and conspicuous. "'Ralph, with a rope tackle wound around his waist, "'climbed the tree, hacked off the branches near the top, "'attached his tackle, and worked his way slowly down, "'cutting the limbs as he descended until he had "'sufficient bare trunk to display the signal to advantage. "'Then Larry, carrying the flag, climbed to where Ralph was "'resting on the highest branch he had left uncut. "'Together they attached the flag upside down and ran it up "'as a signal of distress. "'That done they nailed a board with a message painted "'on it to a stump nearby. "'A passing steamer, seeing the inverted flag, "'might send a small boat to investigate, "'and the boys did not doubt that if their message were found, "'every attempt would be made to rescue them. "'There was not a captain who sailed the lake "'who would not realize what it meant to be stranded "'in such a place for the winter, "'not one cruel enough to turn his back on anyone "'in such a predicament. "'The only question was, would their flag be seen "'from close enough in to be recognizable "'as a distress signal?' "'The appeal Ralph had painted on the board read, "'stranded on an island near the fishing camp up the harbor, "'Margaret, Ralph, and Jack Elliott and Lawrence Kingsley. "'Please come and take us off.' "'When the boys reached the cabin again, "'they found Jack looking distressed and somewhat sullen. "'The little hatchet's gone, Ralph,' he said. "'His tone sounded defiant. "'Gone? What's the meaning of that, Jack? "'Did you lose it?' "'I'm afraid he's been very careless, Ralph,' put in Margaret. "'I haven't, either. It wasn't my fault.' "'How did it happen, Jack? Own up,' said Ralph sternly. "'Meg wanted some water, and I took the hatchet and the pail "'and went down to cut a hole in the ice. "'I had it cut, all right, when I heard a squirrel "'and a woodpecker making a great racket in the big cedar. "'I laid the hatchet down and went to see what they were up to. "'When I got back, the hatchet was gone. "'Is that all there is to the story? "'Didn't you drop that hatchet down the hole? "'I never did. I laid it on the ice.' "'On the ice? Where? Close to the hole?' "'Not very close. It couldn't have slipped in. "'Somebody took it.' "'Nonsense, Jack. You know that couldn't happen. "'You haven't told me the whole story.' "'Yes, I have, except,' he hesitated. "'Except what? Out with it.' "'The hole,' Jack went on, "'was bigger when I got back. "'Bigger? You mean the ice was thin "'and the hatchet had broken through? "'No, the ice was thick. "'I could walk all around on it. "'The hole had been chopped bigger "'and the hatchet was gone. "'Somebody took it. "'How about the pail?' "'That was there, all right.' "'Ralph picked up his cap. "'Show me the place,' he said. "'Jack let his brother down the path "'and pointed to an irregular hole "'in the ice close to shore. "'I made it almost round,' he said. "'But when I came back, it was like that, "'all cut up on one side.' "'Ralph examined the hole. "'The ice was firm, but on the side, Jack had indicated. "'It had been cut or broken off irregularly "'as if someone had given it a hasty hack or two.' "'Ralph remembered the broken glass, "'the open window, the spilled beans and missing prunes. "'He looked about for tracks, "'but Larry had swept the ice at that place "'clean of snow the day before "'to test the thickness and to cut a water hole. "'Ralph could find no footprints "'that the boys might not have made themselves. "'He turned to the younger boy again. "'Jack,' he said gravely, "'are you telling me the whole truth?' "'Of course I am, Ralph,' the latter replied indignantly. "'You know I never told you a lie.' "'No, I know you don't lie. "'Jack was quick-tempered and sometimes self-willed, "'but his older brother had never known him "'to be untruthful.' "'I think,' Ralph said finally, "'that when you cut that hole, "'you must have weakened the ice on this side, "'split or cracked it. "'Then you dropped the hatchet on it "'and the weight broke it out, "'and the hatchet went to the bottom. "'You didn't mean to do it, of course, "'but you must be more careful. "'That hatchet is a real loss to us. "'Don't lay things down on the ice after this.' "'I won't,' Jack promised, "'and I'm awfully sorry about the hatchet, but—' "'and he looks down at the hole "'with a doubtful expression. "'I don't see how it could break through that thick ice. "'There was much work to be done in the next few days. "'With the prospect of spending the winter "'in that forsaken place, "'the castaways must make everything ready "'for a long siege of cold weather. "'First, all the vegetables and canned goods "'that freezing might injure must be moved "'from the fishing-camp to the cabin on the island.' "'I'm afraid some of them may have frozen already,' said Margaret. "'We must move them to-day.' "'We could get them over here in a quarter of the time "'if we had some sort of a sled,' remarked Ralph. "'We'll have to fix up something.' "'The best they could do was to nail a couple of barrel staves "'to the bottom of a packing-box. "'These wooden runners were but poor substitutes "'for iron-shot ones, "'and the clumsy sled pulled heavily and awkwardly, "'but it was better than nothing. "'By means of it they transported to the cabin "'all the potatoes, onions, and carrots, "'the canned goods and some of the other provisions. "'The bulk of the things that cold would not injure "'they left at the fishing-camp, "'taking enough, however, to supply them for about two weeks. "'The cans Meg found room for in the kitchen, "'but the sacks of vegetables she put in her bedroom. "'They want to be where they won't freeze,' she said, "'but if they're kept too warm they'll wilt and spoil. "'At her suggestion the three made an inventory "'of all the food supplies. "'Some of the things were not just to their liking, "'but they did not feel like complaining about that. "'Sharp air and much exercise gave them such hearty appetites "'that almost anything eatable was welcome. "'There were sacks of flour, white, gram, and rye, "'cornmeal, a quantity of dried beans and peas, "'sugar, salt, molasses, corn syrup, "'pork, bacon, and several hams, "'prunes, and other dried fruit, "'and various kinds of canned goods, "'including an abundance of canned milk. "'The boys hailed with joy some glasses and jars "'of homemade raspberry jam, "'high-bush cranberry jelly, and canned blueberries. "'To make the little four-room cabin as warm as possible, "'they chinked every hole and thin place between the logs "'with moss and clay thought over the kitchen fire. "'The stove and fireplace heated the kitchen and living room. "'The bedrooms must go unwarmed. "'There was a good supply of bedclothes in the cabin "'and more at the fishing camp, "'but the boys who slept on spring cots without mattresses "'had found that the cold came through from underneath. "'Ralph conceived the idea of covering the springs "'with a layer of wrapping paper "'strewed thickly with twigs of balsam and arborvita, "'the flat sprays of which were conveniently shaped. "'With more papers above the evergreens, "'then a heavy comfort in blankets, "'the lads found their cot beds warm and comfortable. "'A blanket doubled over the foot "'and fastened with safety pins to upper and lower covers "'made the bedding almost as snug as a sleeping bag. "'The most serious lack was clothes. "'As autumn anywhere on Lake Superior is a sharp "'and chilly season, the young people were wearing "'when carried away in the fog woolen underwear. "'The boys had on flannel shirts and warm suits. "'Jack, a sweater in addition, and Margaret, a wool skirt, "'a flannel waist, much like the boys' shirts "'and her winter coat. "'But of course they had no changes. "'I wonder if there is anything at that fishing camp "'we can wear,' said Ralph. "'Our underthings won't ever last through, "'and I, for one, don't care much for this "'having to stay in bed while your clothes are washed. "'Search of the bedrooms in the larger house "'brought to light four warm and only slightly worn flannel shirts, "'two oil-skinned slickers, two pairs of old trousers, "'and two old coats that smelled strongly of fish, "'several pairs of woolen socks, "'and two suits of heavy underwear. "'The fishy old coats and trousers, the boys rejected, "'and the socks they found much too big. "'The shirts, though, a little large, they could wear. "'I'll cut one of these down for Jack,' said Meg. "'We've taken possession of so many of the Thorson's things. "'We might as well go on.' "'We'll pay them double for everything, if necessary,' "'Laurence replied. "'These things are worth much more than that to us.' "'You'd better use one of these shirts yourself, Meg,' Ralph suggested. "'I guess I'll have to. "'I can fit it down a little. "'There's only one warm dress here, "'and I don't think I could wear it. "'It's so much too big. "'How about underwear for you and Jack? "'There's one suit I can use. "'Maybe I can make something for Jack out of a blanket. "'The socks and stockings are the worst. "'They're all so much too big.'" A few minutes later the boys heard her exclaiming with delight. She had found a large box of wool yarn. An old lady who had lived next door to the Elliott's two years before had taught Margaret to knit, and she had made several pairs of socks for her uncle, besides mittens and a knitted cap for Jack. The needles were in the box, so Meg, finding she had not forgotten how, set to work at once to knit the mittens that the boys said they wanted first. At the fishermen's, the lads found also a pair of long Norwegian skis and two pairs of snowshoes, one smaller than the other. There were a huge pair of fur gloves and two pairs of heavy moccasins, much too big for the boys, but which they thought they might use for snowshoeing. Maybe we can stuff them out with something, suggested Ralph. For fear that storms or deep snow might interfere with wood cutting, Lawrence and Ralph decided to lay in a good supply. They had determined not to cut any trees on the little island unless absolute necessity compelled them, but from the forest on the long point a few would not be missed. We don't need to take any live healthy trees, said Lawrence. We can find plenty of dead, partly dead or broken and stunted ones. Before their arrival on the island, neither lad had ever cut down a tree, but necessity is a good teacher and they soon learned to handle their axes and to gauge the falling of the trunks. Felling trees, cutting them up and pulling the heavy loads of wood across the ice and snow in the clumsy sled was hard work, however, and stiff and aching muscles as well as hardy appetites were the result. End of chapter 14. Chapter 15, When Lighthouses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 15, A Mysterious Thief. For several days after the boys discovered that the lighthouse was dark, the weather remained cold, then a warmer spell set in. The snow melted and the ice softened until it was dangerous to cross. For a time the castaways were marooned on their little island. Luckily they were well supplied with food and fuel. After a few days of mild weather and a hard rain, so much open water appeared that Ralph and Lawrence decided to take out the boat again. They were anxious to catch some fish, for they were getting tired of salt meat. Making their way beyond the summer resort island, they fished for several hours with good results. As they were going back, Lawrence said suddenly, Ralph, there's something, a big animal or a man on that island. You must be seeing Jack's stump. No, I'm not. I distinctly saw something move among those bushes. Let's land and investigate. They tramped about the island without finding anything unusual. Then as they went around to the back of one of the houses, Ralph gave a shout, spring forward, picked up something and held it out towards Lawrence. A hatchet exclaimed the latter. The hatchet, our hatchet, Ralph answered. Are you sure? I guess I know that handle. The moose had stamped on the hatchet when Ralph dropped it out of the birch and had broken the handle. Ralph had been obliged to whittle out a new one. There was no mistaking that crude piece of workmanship. Then the little chap was right, someone did take it. Ralph nodded, then glanced up at the window under which he had picked up the hatchet. See here, he exclaimed. The window was raised and on sash and sill were marks indicating that it had been pried open. Without hesitation, he climbed in, Lawrence following. They found themselves in a small three-room cabin, two bedrooms with a living room between. There was no one in hiding there, but the place was in confusion. Bedclothes in the middle of the room, chairs overturned, the living room lamp broken. Someone has ransacked the place, Ralph said. Of course, he pried open the window with a hatchet, but why did he leave it on the ground? Something must have frightened him. He dropped it and ran. I wonder if it really was a man that Jack saw. It looks like it. This isn't the only house that has been entered either. Ralph told of the smashed glass and tumbled bed in the smaller cabin at the fishing camp and of the open window in the larger one. Lawrence responded with the tale of the mysterious tracks and then spoke of the signs of disorder he and Margaret had found in the cabin. I thought I heard someone go through the living room too after I went into the bedroom, he said, and I found the front door open. I'm certain Meg closed it when we went in. There must be somebody sneaking around here, declared Ralph, but why doesn't he come out in the open and show himself? If he's stranded and hungry, we're willing to go shares with him. What's he afraid of, anyway? I don't know, Larry replied. His sneakiness goes to prove that he's here for no good purpose. Yet I don't see what he can be about in a place like this. After all, Ralph, do you suppose it can be an animal of some kind? Would an animal steal a hatchet and pry a window open with it? Some sort of a thieving animal might carry off a hatchet or anything else it came across, I suppose, answered Larry doubtfully. Perhaps the window wasn't pried. Those marks may have been made in some other way. We haven't found anything else suspicious on this island. Another surprise was waiting for the lads when they reached the boat. Their catch of fish was gone. He's on this island somewhere, cried Ralph excitedly, and now he's got our fish. Once more, they searched the place from end to end. They were not able to get into any of the other buildings, but they went around them all, looking for traces of the thing, man or beast, that had stolen their fish. The search was fruitless, not a sign of anything did they find, but some indistinct tracks in a soft place in the trail around the island and those they might have made themselves. They gave up at last and returned to the boat. It was afternoon, but reluctant to go back without any fish, they remained out until they had caught two more. There's no use saying anything to Meg and Jack yet, said Ralph. It would only frighten them. I'll just hide this hatchet until we find out what that thing is and what it's up to. I wish we could drop Meg a hint though to keep the doors locked when we're not there. I think she has been doing that, Larry replied, ever since that night when she thought she heard someone prowling around. I know every time I've reached the house first after we've been out, the doors have been locked and I've had to knock. That's right, Ralph agreed, and she usually sings out, is that you boys? The thaw and milder weather lasted less than a week. Then it turned cold. The harbor froze over once more and the boys had to do their fishing through the ice. They cut several holes, six or eight inches across, and lowered lines baited with bits of pork. As it was cold work standing still holding the lines, they tried to plan Larry had read of. He tied the end of a line to a stick a couple of feet long. Another stick he fastened crosswise to this, not in the middle, but nearer the end to which the line was attached. Then he laid the sticks across the hole, both ends of the cross piece and the longer end of the stick to which the line was fastened, resting on the ice. When a fish tugged at the line, the longer end of the stick was pulled up. To make a still better signal, he tied a bit of cloth to the long stick. With this device he could set several lines and walk about trusting to the raising of a stick with its attached flag to show him when he had a fish. The fishermen did not always have good luck. Sometimes they would watch several holes for an hour or two without a bite. Even when they did get a bite, they did not always succeed in landing the fish. After cutting holes in various places, they finally found two spots, one up the harbor and the other out towards its mouth where the fishing seemed best. They tried leaving the lines out overnight, but they were robbed several times. The lines cut or nod off or carried away sticks and all. The lads decided that it would not do to risk losing all their tackle and adopted the plan of never going out of sight of the holes when the lines were set. Whether the thefts were the work of the same man or beast that had carried off the hatchet, they could not tell. Any predatory animal might have stolen the fish. The boys had thought of taking the rest of the supplies from the Thorson's house to their own cabin, but they had little room to stow away anything more, so instead they fastened the door between the storeroom and the kitchen with a strong bar of wood, resting in sockets made by bending thin strips of iron, drilling holes in them and screwing them to the door casing on either side. There was a tool chest among the fishermen's things and in a box in one of the sheds they found some scraps of old iron. Remembering the broken glass in the other house, they made a stout wooden shutter to cover the one window of the storeroom and nailed it on. They could use a candle or lantern when they came for supplies. Now, said Ralph, when they had completed their defenses, it would bother a man or animal to get in here. I don't like to shut anyone out who may be in need of food, but if he is hungry he can come over to our island and show himself like an honest man. With some thin boards such as are used for repairing boats, Lawrence and Ralph attempted to build a toboggan. By steaming the boards over the wash boiler, they succeeded in bending the ends in a slight curve, not rounded enough for the real toboggan shape, but sufficient to prevent the front of the sled from cutting into the snow. Cleats fastened with screws held the boards together and Ralph gave the hole a thorough coating of oil. The toboggan was a rather crude affair, but serviceable, not very heavy to pull, and far better for carrying wood and supplies than the packing box a sled. After a fresh fall of snow, the lads in Margaret undertook to learn to use the snowshoes. Walking with the clumsy things proved more of a trick than it looked to be, and a great deal of practice was necessary before the young people became at all skillful. Tumbling around in the snow did not hurt them though, and they kept on trying, laughing at one another's mishaps. The worst result was the straining and laming of their feet, ankles, and legs, until they learned to manage the shoes, and their muscles became accustomed to this new form of exercise. Because Ralph and Jack had used skis, they succeeded in keeping their balance and getting ahead before Lawrence did while Margaret was slowest of all. In time though, she became as expert as the boys. Meg had the housework cooking and mending to do, but the boys helped when they could. Washing their clothes, a kind of work she had never had to do at home, was her most unpleasant task, but she went at it bravely each time, thankful, she said, that they had some clothes to wash. There were a few books in the cabin, some novels, several books of travel, one on animal life, a botany, and a geology. All but the last two, the older boys read aloud, a chapter or two each evening to make them last as long as possible, while Margaret kept busy with her knitting. When everything is taken into consideration, the first few weeks of real winter were by no means uncomfortable or unhappy, for the castaways were trying to make the best of things and not to think of their loneliness. Of their suspicions that a human being of some sort was in their neighborhood, the older boys said nothing to Margaret and Jack. They kept their eyes open for the creature, however. Once they found some tracks that they felt sure could only have been made by a human foot in a shoe. At that time, there was little snow on the ground and the ice was practically clear. The tracks began on the shore above the fishing camp, continued through the woods and across the point. There, where the rocks had been swept bare by the winds, the boys lost the trail and could not pick it up again. Neither were they able to trace the steps in the other direction over the ice. Those tracks were the only trace of anything human that they could discover. As time went on, they began to believe that the sneaking man had left that part of the island. End of chapter 15, chapter 16, When Lighthouses Are Dark by Ethel C. Brill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 16, Christmas. Christmas all alone in the wilderness. It made the young folk feel lonely even to think of it, but they determined to have as merry a Christmas as they could. As soon as they were well started on their preparations, they grew so interested that they almost forgot to be lonesome. A few days before the holiday, after a fresh snowfall, they had a winter picnic. The morning was bright and still, the frost sparkling in the air, the snow sprinkled evergreens gleaming in the sun, and the trunks of the paper birches, the white ladies of the wood, standing out against the deep green as if coated with silver. The woods looked like the pictures Jack Frost paints on the window panes. The snow was not deep and the going was good up the frozen harbor among the islands. As there were only two pairs of snowshoes and the long skis, Jack rode on the toboggan. On a bit of shelving, rocky shore, open enough so that there was no danger of burning the trees, the boys lighted two fires, a little one to cook over and a larger one to keep them warm. They had brought ham and potatoes to fry, bread in a jar of jam. The snow-strewn rocks were too cold to sit on so the picnickers had to stand and squat around the fire, but it kept them warm enough. After lunch, they drowned out their fires and went into the woods to select a Christmas tree. Near their picnic place was a grove of snow-decked spruces of all sizes, from tall, old trees to tiny ones that did not reach to Jack's waist, all as regular in their cone-like shapes as toy trees. Not wishing to disturb this handsome grove, the tree hunters penetrated farther back into the forest until, in a clump of small evergreens where it would not be missed, they found a pretty little spruce just the right height. As has been said before, Ralph and Lawrence did not like to cut live sound trees, but they knew Jack would be disappointed if he did not have his Christmas tree. After the spruce was felled, they gathered some balsam, spruce, and cedar branches with cones still clinging to them, and Ralph climbed a tree to get some bunches of mountain ashberries dried, but still red. Going deeper into the woods where there was more soil and leaf mold, the boys dug down under the snow for ground pine and pulled up a quantity of both kinds, the running pine that comes up in single shoots from runners that trail along under the leaves and the kind that grows in little bunches from long roots going straight down. Jack called the little clumps fairies Christmas trees. In the meantime, Meg gathered the feathery branches of American U or ground hemlock with their waxy red berries that look like little candle holders. While they were in the woods, they noticed in the snow many tracks of birds and squirrels. Modeled black and white, downy woodpeckers hammered on the tree trunks and inquisitive blue-grey nut hatches with triangular black patches on their heads and plaintive squeaking chirps ran headfirst down the bark to see what the intruders were doing. While trim black capped chickadees uttered their deep-chested chickadee dees and flew close to pick up the crumbs Meg scattered for them. Saucy squirrels chattered and scolded and once Ralph startled a big hare in his white winter coat. The hare leaped across an open space to the shelter of a bush where he paused motionless. His long ears erect and his sensitive nose quivering. The young folk certainly did not find it lonely there in the winter woods among all those shy, wild things. Tree branches and ground pine were carried back to the toboggan and the snowshoes, which the picknickers had not used in the thick woods, resumed for the homeward trip. Dusk had come before they reached the cabin. The day before Christmas, the tree was set up and trimmed with cones, red mountain ash berries, bluish juniper berries and a few ornaments Margaret and Jack had made from tinfoil, birch bark and bits of colored paper. The ground pine was made into wreaths, which with the evergreen branches were used to trim the room. When the decorations were finished, the fore agreed that the cabin looked very Christmassy. Several winter birds frequented the little island and Jack proposed that they'd be given a Christmas dinner too. So Ralph made a little shelf with a roof and fastened it to the trunk of a birch tree beyond one of the living room windows. He scattered some crumbs on the shelf and late in the afternoon, Jack noticed a nut hatch running down the tree. He seemed afraid of the shelf at first, but after advancing towards it and retreating and flying off and coming back again a number of times, he finally made up his mind to investigate it cautiously. It's a pity we haven't any suet for him, Ralph said. He doesn't seem to care much for crumbs. We might put out some pork or bacon, replied Margaret, but I don't know whether salt is good for birds. I'll try soaking it out of a piece of pork. Christmas Eve, the four made candy, chocolate fudge and molasses taffy. And after it was cold, they filled a little birch basket for each one. When everything was ready for the Christmas celebration and they were sitting around the fire, the feeling of loneliness came back to them. Just think of the miles of snow and ice between us and the nearest people who are celebrating Christmas Eve tonight, said Larry suddenly. I don't think I've quite realized it before. Margaret shivered a little and Ralph hastened to say, don't realize it now. We mustn't think about that or we'll get homesick. It won't do to begin feeling that way now with three or four months of loneliness ahead of us. No one said anything for a few minutes. Then Meg, who had been staring steadily into the fire, began to sing. It was the old Christmas carol, silent night, holy night. Jack and Ralph joined in, though the latter's voice was rather cracked and unreliable. Then they sang other carols, old ones, like God Rest You, Mary, Gentleman, and Good King Wenseloss, and the more modern Hark the Herald Angels Sing, and O little town of Bethlehem. It had always been a Christmas custom with the Elliott's to sing carols, so they knew the words. Lawrence had not been brought up in a real home and he did not know them. He joined in, though, humming the tunes. As they finished the last carol, Meg happened to glance toward a window. She started in her chair. Was that a man looking in? A glimpse only and he was gone. With an effort of will she smothered the cry that rose to her lips. Perhaps she had been mistaken, but she had thought she saw a face, a man's face with shaggy hair and snowflaked beard. Only for an instant had it appeared. Surely it must have been a creation of imagination. Before going to bed, Ralph went for an armful of wood. He was gone for some time. It's a real Christmas Eve all right, snowing hard, he said, as he dropped his load into the box by the fireplace. He did not mention that, as he had gone out of the door, he had seen something slip around the corner of the shed, a dim shape in the falling snow, with the appearance of a man or a large beast walking on its hind legs. He ran after it, but did not get another glimpse. There were tracks in the soft, loose snow. He hastened back to the kitchen, lighted the lantern and went to examine the prints. The fast-falling flakes had blurred them so he could not tell whether they had been made by man or beast. They led him to the shore, but on the ice where the wind was drifting the snow, he lost them. It was not until the next morning that he told Larry what he had seen. Ralph was up before daylight to look after the fires. Snow was still coming down, big, soft flakes that made white mounds out of the evergreens, their limbs drooping under the load. Margaret said, when she looked out, that the views from the windows were their Christmas cards and beautiful ones too. After breakfast was over and the morning work done, Jack asked if they were not going to have their presents, but Meg said, no. We must make our Christmas last through the day. Dinner will be at one and the tree afterwards. You boys come and sit down by the fire. We needn't be heathen if we are alone in the woods. When they had gathered around the fire, she took down from one of the shelves a little Bible and read the real story of Christmas. Probably none of them had ever listened so attentively or reverently in church as they did in that little cabin on the lonely island. Then they sang carols again. Margaret had done her best to have a good dinner. There was no turkey or mince pie, of course, but there were baked ham and boiled onions, potatoes and canned peas, raspberry jam to spread on their bread. And as I climaxed to the feast, a spiced cake made with an extra amount of baking powder instead of eggs and plenty of raisins and currants. The wild things had their Christmas feast, too, for Meg had soaked the salt out of a piece of pork and had hung it over the feeding shelf. And Jack had put out some bits of bread and vegetables by the back door, where he was in the habit of feeding the two hairs that lived on the little island. The young folk had put their wits to work to devise gifts for each other. For several nights after Jack had gone to bed, Ralph had worked on a pair of snowshoes for him, making the frames of slender strips of wood steamed and bent to the proper shape and lacing them with strong fish line. Sinu would have been better for the purpose, but he oiled and stretched the cord to make it taut and strong. Margaret had already supplied the boys with mittens, but had been knitting early and late to get a pair of stockings done for each for Christmas. With Meg's help, Jack had made for the older boys a checkerboard of a thin wooden box cover, blackening the alternate squares with ink and cutting the men out of bits of wood. For his sister, he had made a birch bark box. To Ralph, Lawrence gave his handsome pocket knife that the former had often admired. To Meg, a basket full of balsam tips for a pillow, and for Jack, he had whittled a set of jack straws out of slivers of wood. For Margaret, Ralph had succeeded in making a rather clumsy birch basket. It might do to put her knitting in, he said. He had sought through the woods for a straight slender but strong pole, which he had barked and oiled to make a staff for Larry to use when skiing. All four enjoyed their simple presents as much as they had ever enjoyed more elaborate ones. Snow fell steadily all day, and that made the cabin seem cozier than ever. In the evening, the young folk played some hard fought games of checkers and jack straws and ate candy between moves. On the whole, this Christmas alone on the island was by no means an unhappy one. It was fortunate for the castaways that they could not foresee the disaster soon to come upon them and the hardships that were to follow. End of chapter 16. Chapter 17, When Light Houses Are Dark, by Ethel C. Brill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 17. Burned Out. The weather turned very cold after Christmas. It was difficult to keep the cabin warm, and the boys grew rather careless about the fireplace, heaping up the wood and letting the flames roar up the chimney in their efforts to heat the whole room and not merely a little space in front of the fire. Yet the day before the disaster was unusually mild, they did not have a very big fire in the evening, and Ralph was sure he had covered it carefully. Waking during the night, he heard the wind whistling around the house and the trees creaking and swaying. I guess we're in for another storm, he thought, and went to sleep again. The next thing he knew, Larry was shaking him. At first, Ralph could not understand what his friend wanted, then suddenly the latter's words penetrated the boy's sleepy head. The chimney's on fire. Tumbling out of bed, Ralph seized his clothes. He could hear another sound now, besides the whistling of the wind, a snapping, cracking noise, and he could smell smoke. Jack was awake and Ralph gave him his orders. The chimney's on fire, get dressed and do as Meg tells you. Waiting only long enough to call Margaret, he ran out, followed by Lawrence. Smoke sparks and flames were pouring out of the chimney. The two boys put up the ladder and Ralph climbed to the roof. Larry was following when Ralph stopped him. Go in and get the stuff out, he called back. Clothes first, send Jack with a shovel. Larry made no answer but obeyed promptly. Without thinking what he was doing, he ran to the back door, but as he opened it and went in, he realized that it was strange that door should be unfastened. Ralph must have forgotten to lock it when he brought in wood before going to bed. The roof was smoking in several places and blazing in one. Ralph gathered up snow in his hands and threw it on the burning spots. In a few moments, Jack brought in the shovel. The sparks were flying, so he could not get near enough to put too much snow down the chimney, but he did his best. When he had scraped up what there was on the roof, he jumped down into a snow bank and began throwing up shovelfuls from below. Fortunately, the cabin was a low one and the snow was deep, hard-packed around the house and crusted over so it bore him up. After he had thrown a quantity of snow on the roof, he scrambled up again from the top of the drift and began to shovel the snow on the burning places. At first, he seemed to be holding his own and keeping the fire from spreading, but he soon realized that it was gaining on him. He worked on, though, encouraged by the fact that snow was falling fine and wet, almost like rain. There was little chance of saving the roof, however. One place might fall at any moment. Margaret, Larry, and Jack were carrying things out. Ralph called it down to Meg as she came out with a load. Get things out as fast as you can. The roof's going to fall in. She ran back into the house. A few minutes later, a piece of the roof next to the chimney fell through, scattering sparks in every direction, even on Ralph and causing him to almost tumble off. He climbed down and made for the door to meet Larry coming out. We can't save the place. All we can do is to get out everything we can. The clothes, the bedding, and the vegetables that were stored in Margaret's bedroom had been thrown out of the windows. Part of the other food supplies had been saved. Luckily, the wind had shifted or gone down only in occasional gusts, fanning the flames, and it was snowing hard, no longer fine and rain-like, but big, soft, wet flakes that kept the fire partly in check. But the smoke was so bad that the boys could not do more than dash in, seize an armful, and dash out again as quickly as possible. One more trip was all they made, for just as Lawrence was coming out, a great piece of the living room ceiling fell. Most of the things that the snow would hurt were thrown under the protecting roof of the woodshed, which was at some distance from the house, and was too piled with snow to be affected by flying sparks. The wet snow saved the trees also. Had they caught fire, the flames would have swept the little island from end to end, but only one, a small birch, was burned. Dawn had come while the firefighters were working. The cabin would have been burned to the ground long before daylight, had it not been for the thick, wet snow. Now the boys determined to help the snow save as much of the building as possible. Ralph ran down to the waterhole and, finding it still open, went to work using two pails. The others formed a line. Ralph dipped up a pail full and swung it to Meg, who passed it to Jack. He, in turn, carried it to Larry, and Larry threw it on the fire and passed back the empty pail. Between times he threw snow against the house. Of course all this labor would have been of no avail without the snowstorm, but their efforts did seem to help a little. At any rate the flames died down under the wet blanket, and finally the remains of the cabin merely smoked and smoldered. Not till then did the young folk take stock of what was left to them. Up to that moment they had not had time to think. It was a doleful little group that gazed on the blackened smoking ruins of their home. The roof was completely burned off, and only part of the wall was standing. "'What in the world are we going to do?' said Margaret. It was the first discouraged word anyone had spoken. Ralph shook his head. "'There's one thing certain. We can't ever fix up the place. We've only a few boards and a handful of nails. Even if we tear down the woodshed, we have no shingles. "'Then we haven't any home,' the tears stood in Little Jack's eyes. We'll find another home, but the first thing to do is to eat. They dug out some provisions from the pile of things in the woodshed and ate a cold breakfast. While they were eating, they considered the situation. "'There's only one thing to do,' said Ralph. We've got to make ourselves at home in some other house. We're using the Thorson supplies. I suppose we may as well use their cabin, too.' "'It isn't nearly as good as this was,' Lawrence replied. It's older and not so well-built. It would be even harder to heat. There is only the cooking stove and no fireplace. The houses on the summer resort island are just intended for summer,' Ralph replied. The frame ones would be awfully cold, and the log ones are fastened up tight. We should have to break in.' "'Oh, we'd hate to do that,' cried Margaret. I do wish,' she added thoughtfully, that the old lighthouse was a little nearer. So do I. It would be just the place for us and the back door is unlocked. It surely would be the warmest house we could find,' agreed Larry. Those thick stone walls can't let the wind through, and we know the stove and fireplace and chimneys are all right. But it's too far away. It must be at least eight miles. There wouldn't be much danger of burning it down, though. Those buildings at the fishing camp would burn like tinder. You're right. A fire would sweep them away in no time, and there aren't any chimneys, just a stove pipe through the roof. It's easy to set a house on fire with an overheated pipe. A fire wouldn't stop with the buildings, Ralph added. The place is on the main island, you know, and if the tree is caught, it would mean a forest fire. "'Oh,' cried Margaret, we mustn't stay there. I should be afraid of fire every minute.' Well, suggested Larry, shall we try to break into some other cabin, then? I doubt if we could do it. We might break a window and crawl in, but how could we patch up the glass again? Anyway, unless one of the doors happened to be fastened on the inside, breaking a window wouldn't do any good. We couldn't keep on going in and out that way. Do you suppose, Larry said thoughtfully, that we could make the trip to the old light? It's sure the best place for us, Ralph answered. We can get in without smashing anything. It's warmly built. As Meg says, it wouldn't burn down easily. If one of those summer resort houses should catch fire, everything on that island might go, houses and trees. It frightens a fellow to think of it, especially when you realize how easily this conflagration started. I covered the fire well last night. I don't see how the wind could have made it blaze up enough for the chimney to catch. Maybe you covered the fire all right, but you left the back door unbolted, and Lawrence replied, Did I? Ralph looked startled, but that couldn't have made any difference with the fire. He was silent for a moment. Then he said suddenly, Well, what are we going to do? We've got to make up our minds. The lighthouse is such a long way to take our things, said Margaret doubtfully. It won't be so bad with our snowshoes and toboggan. We must have gone nearly as far when we went up to the head of the harbor and back that day before Christmas. We could take the necessary things first. Then you and I, Larry, could come back for the rest. It would be hard work, of course, but I believe it's worth the trouble, don't you? Yes, I believe it is, Lawrence replied slowly. He was thinking of the warmth and security of those thick walls. The snow had ceased falling, but the air was growing colder. The homeless ones must find a place of shelter very soon. After a little more debate, they decided that in spite of the distance, the lighthouse would be the best place for them. The thought that when spring came, they would stand a better chance there of hailing a boat and being taken off strengthened their decision. End of Chapter 17, Chapter 18, When Lighthouses Are Dark, by Ethel C. Brill. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. 18. Through the Snow to the Old Lighthouse Fortunately, the bulk of the food supplies had been left in Newt Thorson's house, or the loss would have been far more serious. It was afternoon when everything was ready for a start. The fire seemed to be entirely out, so Lawrence and Ralph were not afraid to leave it. They had loaded the toboggan and, in addition, had made up packs as big and heavy as they thought they could carry. At first Larry went ahead to break the trail, Ralph following with the toboggan, but they changed places frequently. Running out from the point was a ridge of rough, broken, snow-covered ice, which had been piled up by the wind when the freezing process was going on. Getting the toboggan over was troublesome. If the load had not been tied on securely, it would certainly have been lost off more than once. The travellers had gone a short distance beyond the ice ridge when Jack noticed a head protruding from a hole in the rocks. He saw it distinctly, a man's head. A battered old hat, drawn low, and a shaggy black beard concealed the face. The boy seized Margaret by the arm. There's a man up there, he exclaimed. She turned, startled. Where, she cried? His head was sticking up right there. Jack pointed to the place. He ducked down quick. You must be mistaken, Jack. It was a rock you saw. But Meg did not believe what she was saying. She spoke to Lawrence, who was a little way ahead with the toboggan. Larry, Jack thinks he saw a man up there on the shore. Larry turned quickly. Where, he asked? What was he like? He had an old hat and a big beard. I just saw his head over the rocks. He was watching us. Then he ducked. You don't suppose he really saw someone, do you? Margaret's face and voice betrayed her uneasiness. Lawrence tried to reassure her. He saw a stump or a rock or a piece of driftwood. Where could a man come from around here? And why should he hide from us? Just to make you more comfortable, though, Ralph and I will go see. He called Ralph and the two went to investigate. They were obliged to take off their snowshoes before they could climb up over the partly bare rocks. They hurried to the spot Jack had indicated. There, in a deep hole, some large body had been wallowing in the snow. They could see where it had crouched and where it had made its way through a narrow cleft opening from the hole. They followed the cleft and found the place where, under cover of a spruce growing at the edge, the man had climbed out. A man it certainly was, for under the spruce and beyond it, the prints were plain. The boys looked at each other. Should they follow the tracks? He's got the start of us by several minutes, said Ralph. It might take some time to come up with him, though he can't cover his tracks very well with all this soft snow. It's as much as ever that we can reach the lighthouse by dark, Larry replied. I should like to track that fellow all night, but I don't believe we can afford the time. Besides, we should have to leave Meg and Jack down there waiting for us. Or else take them back to the fishing camp. If we're going to get to the lighthouse tonight, I guess we'll have to let him go for the present, but the next time we get a trace of him we'll track him down. We'd better hurry back, or they'll think something is up. Don't say anything about this trail. There's no in there, Ralph assured Margaret and Jack. But I saw him, insisted Jack. If you did, he's vanished. We looked all around. Didn't he leave any tracks? The older boys did not appear to hear that question. Lawrence had gone on ahead, and Ralph had seized the toboggan rope and was hastening after him. Never mind, Jack, said Margaret, you must have been mistaken. You must have been mistaken. The little fellow made no reply. They think they can fool me, he thought. They did find something. There's a bad man around here. Maybe it's an Indian. I don't think Indians have beards, though. Anyway, they won't tell because they think we'll be scared. He gave a little grunt. They must think I'm a baby, he said to himself resentfully. Margaret, too, was convinced that the lads were keeping something back. Probably they did not want Jack to be frightened, she thought. Perhaps they would tell her later. If they do, I'll tell them about that face at the window, she resolved. But if they treat me like a child and try to make me think there isn't anyone spying on us, I'll just keep still until I can prove to them that I knew about him all the time. There's some reason why they think he's something to be afraid of. I can't see why anyone should want to hurt us, though. As the refugees went on along the rocky shore, they encountered at intervals other patches of rough, heaped-up ice. Although none was as bad as the first one, all were bothersome enough and took time and labor to cross. The weight of packs and toboggan seemed to grow heavier all the time. Breaking a trail through the deep snow was hard work, and the fore plotted on, heads down, seldom speaking, for talking seemed an unnecessary waste of energy. Up to that time excitement had kept them from realizing how hard they had worked since before dawn. They had not felt tired when they left the little island, but now weariness came over them all of a sudden. Margaret and Jack pluckly made no complaint, but they had not gone more than two miles of the eight or nine when the little fellow began in spite of all his efforts to lag behind. He said nothing, but he looked so done up that the others knew he never could make it on foot. See here, Jack, Ralph said. We're going to give you a ride. Climb on top of the sled and take off your snowshoes. He objected at first, and Ralph let him try it a while longer. But when he saw that the boy could scarcely get ahead, and that the tears were standing in his eyes from sheer exhaustion, the older brother insisted. Jack must have something warm to wrap up in, though. They were exposed to the wind in the outer harbor, and he was so tired he might easily chill through. The comforts and blankets were underneath the one cot that had been saved, and to get them out the boys had to untie the load. That was not easy to do, for the ropes were frozen stiff. Ralph had to take off his mittens to get the knots loose, and he nearly froze his fingers. It was growing colder rapidly. Finally, however, they had Jack settled with a comfort to sit on, and a heavy blanket wrapped around him. By the time the load was lashed fast again, they were all chilly and had to quicken their pace to warm up. For a while they went ahead at a fairly good rate, Margaret keeping up well with Larry and Ralph. But the sled was heavier than ever with Jack's added weight, and they soon slowed down again. Never before had miles seemed so long. There were no more rough ice ridges, but the snow was not perfectly level by any means. Drifts had to be surmounted frequently. Moreover, the new fall was soft, and even the broad snowshoes sank into it. Margaret began to lag, and Jack kept going to sleep, and had to be aroused for fear he would fall off the toboggan or freeze some part of him. Several times Ralph made him get off, put on his snowshoes, and go a little way on foot to warm himself. Dusk came, and with the waning of the light the cold increased. The boy's backs and shoulders ached with their packs. Their ankles and legs were lame from the effort of snowshoeing. The sled pulled as if it were loaded with lead, and they were all so tired, they wanted to lie down in the snow and stay there. Each wondered how long he could hold out, and how the others stood it, but they all kept moving somehow. It was dark before they reached the lighthouse, very bleak and cold and inhospitable it looked, with the snow drifted about it. Their hearts sank when they thought how much more there was to do before they could be warm and comfortable. The boys took the toboggan to the back door and unfastened their packs. As they had forgotten to bring the shovel, they had to dig and scoop the snow away from the door with their hands. Then they met a new difficulty. The door was frozen down. For a while it looked as if they had come all that way only to be denied entrance to their refuge at last. They managed to open the door finally though, but before they could make a fire the older lads had to go over to the fisherman's camp for wood. They knew there was a small pile of cut sticks there. When Larry and Ralph returned to the lighthouse they found Meg and Jack still outside. They could do nothing until the ropes on the sled were unfastened and the lantern pulled out from under the pile of bedding. As soon as they had a light Lawrence set to work to kindle a fire while the rest carried in the things. One of Jack's feet was so numb he could only stumble. When it began to warm up he cried with pain, plucky little fellow though he was. Margaret whipped off his shoes and heavy stocking. I believe your foot's frosted, she said. Bring me some snow, won't you please, Larry? With the snow she rubbed Jack's foot until the color came back. Larry had a frosted thumb, too, but did not say much about it till afterward. Meg and Ralph had escaped frostbite. Weary though they were, there was no chance to rest yet. As soon as possible Meg set about getting supper. Lawrence, knowing how nearly dead she must be, suggested that they have a cold lunch, but she said no, they must have a good warm meal. So she made pancakes and fried a great pile of bacon. The very smell made the boys feel like starved wolves. By the time supper was ready the kitchen was comfortably warm. Margaret and the boys were so tired that they lingered over the meal as long as they could, but they had to rouse themselves at last. There was still work to be done before they could sleep. Lawrence and Ralph had to bring another supply of wood, and there were the beds to make ready. It was useless to try to make any of the other rooms habitable that night. And Meg thought the mattress on the iron bedstead would be too cold and damp to use. So they set up the cot for her there in the kitchen, and the boys spread their beds on the floor. Ralph expected to sleep like a log, but he did not, at least not at first. He had been too tired to cut evergreen branches for his bed, and the floor felt hard and cold even through a thick comfort. Moreover, he ached so he could not lie still. It was two or three hours before he dropped to sleep. End of Chapter 18