Ned Wilding's Disappearance: or, The Darewell Chums in the City. Chapman Allen
bed, which no one uses, and there is another,” the widow replied. “I have always kept his room ready for him.”
“Then we’ll stay for the night, thank you,” Fenn said.
The storm did appear to be getting worse, or else the howling of the wind about the lonely cabin made it seem so.
CHAPTER VII
HOME FOR THANKSGIVING
“Hurrah! It’s stopped snowing!” exclaimed Ned as he looked out of the little window on the second floor of the cabin the next morning. “Maybe we can get home for Thanksgiving!”
“I hope so,” Bart answered. “The folks will be worried. Wonder if Jim is waiting for us?”
“Not much! Jim’s too fond of his comfort to come out in such weather,” said Frank.
The boys found the widow had breakfast ready for them. She told them their best plan would be to go to Kirkville, which could be reached by the road leading from the cabin. From that village it was seven miles to Darewell.
“It’s going to be a long pull,” remarked Ned. “But I guess we can make it.”
“Let’s go out and see how the snow is,” suggested Bart.
They found though it was quite deep it was dry and soft so that tramping through it, and pulling the sled, would not be so great an exertion as it otherwise would have been.
“We’ll have to take it easy, and we may get home in time for dinner,” said Frank. “Pity, though, we can’t have some of our own game cooked for the feast, but we’ll not arrive in time.”
“I think we’ll leave most of it with her. What do you say?” asked Bart, and he nodded toward the cabin, outside of which the boys stood.
“Sure thing!” exclaimed Fenn. “I wish we could find her son for her.”
“Maybe we can, some day,” remarked Ned. “But we’d better go in to breakfast and then get started.”
“I hardly feel like taking all this,” Mrs. Perry said as she looked at the rabbits and turkeys the boys left. They had reserved a turkey and some rabbits each but left all the rest. “It hardly seems right,” she added.
“Why it’s no more than we owe you,” said Bart quickly. “We never could have stayed all night out in that blizzard in our tent. I don’t know what we would have done if it hadn’t been that we saw your house.”
“I only wish I had had better accommodations to offer you,” the widow said. “But we have nothing except what charity gives us. In the spring Jane hopes to get a place to work.”
“Perhaps we could help you,” suggested Ned. “My father knows a number of business men and he might get Jane a place in a store.”
“Oh, if he only would!” exclaimed the girl. “I do so want to help mother. I must take Willie’s place – until he comes back,” she added a little sadly.
“My poor boy,” Mrs. Perry exclaimed with a sigh. “I wonder if he will have as nice a Thanksgiving dinner as we will, thanks to the generosity of you boys.”
“We’ll hope so,” said Fenn. “So you haven’t any idea where he is?”
“Not the least. He used to say he wanted to see New York, as I suppose all boys do. But I hardly believe he is there. I wish I knew where he was. He should come home, pride or not, no matter if he hasn’t a cent.”
“New York,” murmured Ned. “I expect to go there soon. I might see Willie.”
“Oh! If you only could!” exclaimed Jane. “Tell him to come home at once. You can easily recognize him. He has a little red scar on his right cheek. He fell and cut himself on a stone when he was a baby.”
“New York is a big place,” said Mrs. Perry. “You are not very likely to see my boy. But if you should – tell him his mother prays for him – every night!” and, unable to keep her feelings in control the widow burst into tears.
It was rather an awkward moment for the boys, but little Mary saved the day.
“I’m going to New York!” she exclaimed. “I’m goin’ right now with these nice boys. They can pull me on their sled!” and she ran to get her bonnet and cloak.
This raised a laugh, and Mrs. Perry recovered her composure.
“Not now, dear,” she said. “Sometime, maybe,” and she smiled through her tears.
“Well, we must be going,” remarked Fenn. “We’re ever so much obliged to you.”
“Indeed, I am in your debt,” the widow replied. “If you are ever out this way again come and see us.”
“We will!” the boys cried as they put on their things and started off with the sled. It was lighter now that the load of camp food and much of the game was off, though the boys found it heavy enough before they had gone a couple of miles. But they were determined to reach home as soon as possible and kept on.
“Pretty tough, eh?” remarked Ned, after a silence of several minutes, as he nodded back in the direction of the cabin.
“You’re right,” replied Bart. “Glad we could do something to help ’em.”
The boys found, on inquiring from a farmer they met, that, by taking a short cut through the woods, they could get on the road to Darewell without going to Kirkville. This would save them a mile, and, though they might be able to hire a horse and wagon in the village, they thought it better to take the short cut.
They were just turning from the woods into the highway that led to Darewell, which was about five miles away, when they heard the jingle of sleigh bells back of them. Turning they saw coming along a big sled drawn by two horses. A boy was on the seat.
“Here’s a chance for a ride!” exclaimed Ned. “We’re in luck. We can offer to pay him to take us home.”
They waited until the sled was close to them and hailed the driver. He turned and they saw it was their old enemy, Sandy Merton. Sandy had been employed by the men in the secret which the four boys were instrumental in bringing to disclosure, but had lost his position and gone to work for a farmer.
“Oh, it’s you, eh?” asked Sandy with a sneer, as he saw the four chums.
There was a moment’s hesitation among them. They did not relish the idea of asking him for a ride. But still less did they like the thought of pulling their heavy sled five miles.
“Look here, Sandy!” exclaimed Ned. “This is a strict business proposition. Will you drive us to Darewell for four dollars, and take our sled? That’s a dollar apiece, and it’s more than livery prices. We’re not asking you out of friendship.”
“No, and I guess you’d better not!” exclaimed Sandy. “Not the way you acted toward me!”
“We never injured you in any way!” said Bart. “But we’re not going to discuss that now. Will you give us a lift for money, or won’t you?”
“Well I won’t, and that’s my answer!” cried Sandy, in sudden and unreasonable rage. “You fellows think you’re mighty smart. But this time is where I’ve got the upper hand. I wouldn’t take you to Darewell for ten dollars apiece. You can go off hunting and enjoy yourself while other folks work. Then because you get lost in the woods you think every one you meet has got to give you a ride. Not much! You can walk to Darewell!” And whipping up his horses Sandy drove on, laughing loudly at the predicament of the chums.
“Might have known better than to ask him,” murmured Ned. “Well, fellows, I guess we’ll have to walk.”
It was easier traveling in the road than through the woods and across the fields, but still it was hard work. However, they managed to get a lift from a farmer when they were within a mile of town. They hitched their sled to the back of his sleigh and the man obligingly took them to Bart’s house.
“Oh! There are the boys!” exclaimed