ed Dan. "Give a fellow just a bit of
warning. Count three; no, make it ten."

So Dick counted. At ten both he and Dan leaped from their bunks. They
were sorry, the instant their feet struck the floor, which seemed at
least twenty degrees colder than ice. Both shook and shivered as they
pulled on their underclothes, shoes which they did not stop to lace,
then shirts, trousers, vests and jackets.

"Br-r-r-r-r! M-m-m-m--!" was all the sound Dan could make. He was trying
to frame words, but his teeth wouldn't stop long enough. Dick made a
dive for a lot of excelsior that had come around some of their goods the
day before. This he threw into the dead, cold fireplace. Dan, shaking as
though with ague, brought a log and laid it across the excelsior. Dick
brought some more firewood. In a short time they had it well heaped.
Then Dick poured coal oil over the whole, and Dan, with palsied fingers,
made three attempts before he could open his match box and strike a
match. The temperature in the cabin must have been around zero, for it
was twenty below outside that same morning.

At last the lighted match reached the oil soaked excelsior, but before
it could ignite, the cold wind that was roaring down the chimney blew it
out.

Dick was too cold to talk, but he made a dive for his cap, and held it
in place over some of the excelsior, while shaking Dan miserably felt
for another match. This time the tiny flame caught in the excelsior.

"It's a g-g-g-g-go!" chattered Dick.

"M-m-m-me for b-b-b-b-bed!" chattered Dan, racing back to his bunk in
the starting light of the fire and diving in under the blankets.

But Dick Prescott stuck at his post. He saw the excelsior blaze briskly.
Then the flames licked at the oil over the logs. Thirty seconds after
that, and the cabin interior was fairly well lighted by the increasing
blaze. Dick wouldn't go back to his bunk, but stood with his back as
close as he dared to the fire. Yet the cold air was all around him, and,
while his back baked the rest of his body was so cold that his teeth
continued to play against each other in six eight time.

"Why don't you get back into bed?" called Tom Reade lazily from his
warmth under blankets. But Dick stuck it out. When the first logs were a
seething mass of ruddy fire Dick, now chattering less, brought more
short logs and piled them on in place. The wind, that day, would take
all the wood that was fed to the fire. Gradually Dick stopped
chattering.