“You would be likely to get wet.” “I should be likely to get drowned.” “Why don’t you stir yourself? you can get warm if you will thrash your arms, or exercise yourself in some way. Get into the cuddy: there is no danger of rocks. If we should hit one, it wouldn’t do any harm. We are not going fast enough to break any thing.” Matt was so cold that he was tempted to try the cuddy. He went to the door, and found that it was fastened. He tried to push it in, and to pull it out; but it resisted all his efforts. The iron hook on the inside held it as firm as though the door had been an immovable body. “Break it in, if you can’t open it,” said Lon. “I can’t break it in: I have tried.” “Take one of the oars, and jam it through the board.” “I don’t want to spoil the door,” replied Matt. “If it comes on to rain we shall want it.” “But, if you can’t get into the cuddy, what good will it do us if it does rain?” demanded Lon impatiently; for he did not like Matt’s way of dealing with difficulties. “Smash it in.” “I can’t do it.” “Try it and see,” persisted Lon. “I tell you I can’t,” snarled Matt. “You are nothing but a baby, Matt Swikes,” added Lon, his patience all gone. “Here, hold this tiller, and I will open that door, or make a hole through the bottom of the boat.” “I don’t know how to steer her,” pleaded Matt. “I don’t want you to steer: she will steer herself, if you will hold this stick just as it is now.” Matt took the tiller; and Lon seized the oar, with which he struck a heavy blow, driving the handle through the door. A second and a third time he applied this battering-ram to the impediment; and the cuddy was open to the admission of the runaways. “Now you can go in, and stow yourself away in the hay, Matt,” said Lon triumphantly. “You have smashed the door into splinters, so there is nothing to keep the cold out,” growled Matt, as he gave up the tiller to Lon. “You can get in out of the wind, and it will be warmer there than it is here,” added the skipper. “There is plenty of hay there, and you can make yourself comfortable.” “I will try it,” said Matt, as he moved forward for this purpose. We left Wade Brooks in this very cuddy; but, in spite of this rude onslaught on his abode, he did not make himself known to the incendiaries. Yet he was still in the cuddy, and understood the situation perfectly. He had slept soundly up to the time when Lon battered down the door. He woke in mortal terror. He saw the dim light through the hole which had been made by the oar. He was afraid the oar might hit him; and he retreated as far as he could into the bow of the boat, and stowed himself away between the mast and the stem, or as much of himself as the space would permit, taking his spare clothes with him. Lon made so much noise that he did not hear Wade move from his position.