At last he even felt comfortable.

"You fellows can get up now just as well as not," he announced.

Dan was the first to try it.

"Something like," he announced. That brought Dave Darrin out. One by one
the other fellows followed--all except Hen.

"You don't catch me out of my bunk until breakfast is ready," announced
young Dutcher.

Dick wheeled impatiently, at this hint, but Dave Darrin whispered in his
ear:

"Let it go at that, Dick. But after breakfast we'll make him wash all
the dishes--every one--and spend the rest of the forenoon slicking up
around the place. If he refuses--well, we'll know how to bring him to
time."

So Hen was ignored for the time being. Dan and Greg busied themselves in
the first breakfast preparations. Dick and Dave, presently, went over to
one of the windows, forcing it back and tugging at the shutter, which
proved to be frozen in place.

"Bring some hot water, Dan, the minute you get it," urged Dick. This was
soon ready and a small amount of it was poured around the sill,
loosening the shutter, which was shoved back.

"Glory! Look at the storm!" cried Dick. There was a rush after the glass
window had been closed.

Never had a prettier snow scene been exposed to view. The snow was still
swirling down, while what had fallen was up level with the window.

"It's a good four feet deep, already!" cried Dave.

"And looks as though it would go on snowing for a week," added Tom Reade
joyously.

"Fellows," announced Dick, "we're surely snowbound. That's something
that we've often dreamed about. Say, wouldn't it be queer if we had a
long spell of this sort of thing, and couldn't--simply couldn't--get
back to Central Grammar by the time school opens again after the
holidays?"

"If the food holds out it'll be fun," assented Tom Reade.

Soon another shutter was opened, admitting more daylight. When they got
around to the rear window, and got it open, Dick pointed to the shack in
the rear.

"Well, we know that Mr. Fits hasn't been out to-day," Prescott laughed.
"Just look at his door. The drifts have piled against it, higher than
the door itself."

Snow scenes, however, do not feed any one. So the boys turned back to
the kitchen preparations. What if the bacon and eggs didn't look quite
neat enough to suit a real housekeeper? The mess tasted good. So did the
fried potatoes, made out of the left overs from last night's boiled
ones. Coffee, bread and butter and "store pie." No wonder