"We can start again at any time that the wind changes to this quarter." "What are you going to tell your father about this, Ripley ?" Dave Darrin asked presently.
"Nothing," replied Fred, with a start.
"Is that all you ever tell him about your misdeeds ?" inquired Tom dryly.
"This isn't my misdeed," Fred snapped.

"You fellows started all the trouble." "I suppose we even invited your crowd to come over here this afternoon and steal our food ?" Dave continued.
"Now, you youngsters will get trouble started all over again, if you don't look out," Fred threatened the Grammar School boys.
"You'd better leave us alone," suggested Dick, "and make up your mind about what you're going to tell your father when he hears about this." "Who's going to tell him ?" snarled young Ripley.
"I don't know." "Are you, Dick Prescott ?" insisted Fred.
"Not unless I have to." "Don't you dare go to spreading this yarn around Gridley!" "I won't promise," Dick made answer.

"I don't want to carry tales if I can help it, but we're bound to report to your father that the cook shack was burned down while we were here." "You can tell my father that it was your own carelessness, and let it go at that," suggested Ripley.
"Humph! I like the cool nerve of your idea," Dick jeered.
"That's what you'll tell my father, if you know what's good for you," Fred went on.

"That's all I've got to say, but you'll be sorry if you don't take my advice." Though the temperature was some degrees below zero in the forest that evening, none of the boys near the log cabin felt at all cold.

The shack, whose roof soon fell in, still burned briskly enough to keep all hands warm.
"Watch your chance to dart into the cabin when you see me start.