Four Afloat Part 36

"Well, we've had pretty good times this summer, too, so far," replied Bob. "Only, I wish Tommy would show up. I'm beginning to get worried about him. If he doesn't come back to-morrow we ought to write to his folks, or telegraph, maybe, and see if he's with them."

"Oh, tommyrot!" said Nelson. "He wouldn't go home. Besides, he didn't have money enough. He's around somewhere having a good time. I dare say he thinks he'll get back at us for running away from him."

"Maybe, but how does he know we won't go off without him?"

"Well, he knows that he wouldn't if he was in our place, and doesn't expect us to."

"I suppose that's it. h.e.l.lo!"

"What?"

"Rain."

"That's so. And our friend the moon has retired again. Say, how far from town do you suppose we are?"

"Two miles and a half, maybe."

"More like three and a half, I'll bet! Shall we turn back?"

"I suppose so, but I'm not nearly walked out. Maybe it'll stop raining again in a minute. If there was some place we could go out of the drip for a while--"

"There's a light over there."

"Yes, but it's a half mile away," answered Bob. "And blest if I know how we'd get to it. Let's keep on for a bit. It isn't raining very hard.

Besides, we can't get much wet."

So they went on, quickening their pace and watching each side of the road for shelter. A minute later the rain began in earnest.

"Aren't we a couple of idiots?" laughed Nelson.

"Oh, I don't know; this is more fun than being cooped up in that little old cabin back there. My, but it is coming down some, isn't it? What's that ahead there? A house?"

They broke into a run and headed for the dark object in question. It proved to be a tumble-down shed standing back from the road some five or six yards. It was unlighted and their groping hands encountered only a hasp and padlock.

"Locked," grunted Bob.

"Not a bit of it," answered Nelson, lifting the padlock out of the staple. "They knew we were coming." They pulled one of the folding doors open and slipped inside. "Who's got a match?" Nelson asked.

"I guess I've got some somewhere," answered Bob. "Yes, here we are."

In the tiny light they saw that the building had at one time been a blacksmith's shop. The forge and bellows stood in front of them and the floor was littered here and there with old iron. That the roof was not in the best of repair was evidenced by the numerous puddles on the floor.

"How many matches have you got?" asked Nelson as the light flickered out.

"Three or four. Why?"

"Don't light any more yet," was the reply. "I saw a piece of paper over in the corner there. If it's dry maybe we can have a fire and be comfortable." Nelson crossed the floor, stumbling over discarded wagon tires and old bits of iron, and finally found what he was after. The prize, several sheets of newspaper, was quite dry, and he found his way back to the forge with it. "Now let's have a light, Bob," he said. "And we'll see if we can find some splinters or something." Luck again favored them, for a piece of soft pine board was leaning against the side of the forge, and while the match held out Nelson whittled diligently with his knife. Afterwards, in the darkness, he gathered paper and whittlings together in the center of the old fire bed, found some likely feeling bits of charcoal and c.o.ke and demanded another match.

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Bob. Then, "_Thunder!_" he exclaimed.

He had scratched it on a damp place and the head had rubbed off without lighting.

"Was that the last?" Nelson asked anxiously.

"No, one more. You'd better do it, Nel." And Bob handed the precious match over to him.

"If this goes out, too-!" muttered Nelson.

"What's the matter?" asked Bob presently.

"The blamed thing hasn't any head on it," answered Nelson disgustedly.

"I've sc.r.a.ped it and sc.r.a.ped it and-oh, pshaw, it's a toothpick!"

"Hang!" remarked Bob feelingly.

"And just when I had a fire all ready! Look through your pockets again, Bob. Maybe you'll find another." There was a minute of silence during which each searched from pocket to pocket, broken finally by an exultant exclamation from Bob.

"Here's a piece of one!" he cried. "And it's the business end, too.

Who's going to scratch it?"

"Me," answered Nelson. "I know where the paper is. Hand it over. All right. Now here goes!"

The match lighted and Nelson quickly tucked it under the edge of the paper. There was a breathless moment and then success was a.s.sured. The paper was in flames and the splinters were crackling merrily. Nelson seized knife and wood again and frantically split off long pieces to feed the flames.

"See if you can't find some more wood, Bob," he said. "Here, light one of these pieces and look around."

Armed with the small torch Bob explored.

"Fine!" he exclaimed presently from a distant corner of the shed.

"Here's a whole box. Part of it's kind of damp, but I guess the rest will burn."

He brought it over and knocked it to pieces and soon there was a generous fire flaring up from the old forge. Nelson seized the bellows and found that they still worked, though somewhat wheezily. "Sounds as though it had the asthma," he said. Presently the c.o.ke caught, too, and when they could leave the fire they rummaged the place from end to end, finding enough fuel of various sorts to last them all night if necessary. A gunny sack in a corner held a few quarts of charcoal, there was a loose beam which came away readily under Bob's persuasion, and a small box which had once held horse shoe nails was discovered under one of the windows where it had done duty as a cupboard. They took off their oilskins and wet shoes, placing the latter near the flames where they soon began to steam prodigiously.

"Wish we had something to sit on," lamented Nelson.

"That's easy," Bob answered. "Here's this old anvil over here. If we can get it to the fire it will do finely."

After several minutes of the hardest sort of work they managed to edge it over to the forge. Then they sat down on it, very close together of necessity, and puffed and blew like a couple of porpoises.

"How long are we going to stay here?" asked Nelson, tossing another piece of wood on the flames.

"I don't know. Until it holds up a bit, I suppose. Listen to it now, will you?"

The rain was pouring down on the roof like a hundred waterspouts.

"We could sleep here if we had to," said Nelson.

"I suppose so," Bob answered dubiously, "but I guess I'm a little bit like Tommy; I have a weakness for mattresses and bedding. If--"