For a moment the boys listened to the howl of the gale. Then Poke settled himself on the floor near the fire. “Might as well make yourselves comfortable, fellows,” he remarked. “I’d rather be here than outside, I tell you!” The Shark followed his example, and so did the Trojan and Step. Orkney and Sam took opposite ends of the semicircle. Poke was smiling a sickly smile. “I believe in making the best of things,” he announced. “I’m not exactly happy--my ankle hurts and my nose’ll never be the same to me that it was--but I’m not kicking. I’m glad to be here, as I’ve explained. But how long do you expect to linger in this bower, Sam?” “I think we’ll have to stay all night, anyway.” “Huh! Any idea where we are?” “Not an idea.” “I scouted around a bit,” said Herman. “No sign of a road or other houses.” Sam nodded. “My notion,” he said, “is that we’ve tumbled on some way-out, back-of-nowhere abandoned farm. It’s been abandoned so many years that the brush has sprung up all about it. Somehow I don’t believe it’s near any village. And now that we’re here--well, Safety First, you know.” “That’s right!” chimed in the Trojan. “We’ll be safe enough,” Sam went on. “We’ll lay in plenty of wood, and keep the fire going--and that’s about all we can do.” Poke laid a hand on his stomach. “That’s well enough,” said he. “Only do I hear anybody suggest dinner or supper? If it’s just the same, I’d like to have ’em both right now.” The Shark pulled out a big camp doughnut. “The cook gave me this, bless him!” he remarked. “I ate mine, worse luck!” sighed Herman. “And I also,” groaned Poke. “It went ages ago.” “Same here!” declared the Trojan. Both Sam and Orkney, it proved, had been provident. Each produced a doughnut. “Share and share alike,” Sam ruled. There was some demur from Poke, but the division was made. In a few moments the last crumb had vanished. “My! but that’s just an appetizer!” sighed Poke. It occurred to Sam that diversion was needed. “You firemen, rustle in more wood--a lot of it!” he directed. “Orkney, it looks as if there were a back room. Let’s explore!” The “back room” proved to be a shed-like extension, in worse condition than the house itself. It yielded, however, a number of mildewed sacks, a wooden bucket, and a battered iron pot, in which, hung from a crane in the fireplace, snow could be melted. Herman, Step and the Trojan brought in huge armloads of wood. They declared that it would be needed; that the temperature was falling, and that the night would be Arctic. “Whoof! but it’s awful outside!” Herman avowed. “Bet it’ll hit thirty below!” This, as the boys knew, was by no means improbable. In Plainville thermometers now and then showed such readings in cold snaps, while even lower marks had been recorded in the hills.