we’ll be retired and loungin’ on that beach where our kids are right now.”
The Hardys went and patched the barn wall under Grandpa’s direction while Chet cleared the driveway. The repairs were more difficult without power tools, but Mr. Morton still had plenty of old-fashioned woodworking implements lying around the barn, in addition to the boards they needed for the patch.
Iola helped Grandma with the household chores. Then the boys carried in enough wood to last them for the night.
By mid-afternoon, they all had some free time, so the teenagers went outside and built snowmen and a snow fort while the Morton grandparents napped. After a snow fight, the teens happily sipped hot chocolate while sitting around the fireplace and recounting tales of their exploits.
“Maybe those snowmen we built will scare off the prowlers,” Chet speculated. “In the dark, they might look like sentries.”
“They’d look more like guards if you hadn’t been plunking them with snowballs,” Iola noted. “Now they’ll only work if the burglars think we’ve hired the Big-Puff Marshmallow Men to guard our house.”
“Or that TV salesman guy who’s made out of car tires,” Joe added, laughing.
“Fear me! I am the amazing blubber man!” Frank said. He lumbered across the room, imitating a walking snowman.
“Okay, so maybe that won’t work,” Chet admitted.
“I doubt these felons would be frightened off by a scarecrow anyway, Chet,” Iola said. “After all, Bernie didn’t chase them away, and he’s a pretty good watchdog.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Joe said. “I’m wondering if maybe someone fed Bernie some drugged food.”
“That occurred to me, too,” Frank said. “You remember how sleepy he was the night someonewas skulking outside? And then he got taken away with no signs of a struggle.”
“None we could find,” Chet said.
“Either he was drugged, or he got nabbed by someone he knew and trusted,” Joe said.
“That makes sense,” said Iola. “But who?”
The Hardys shrugged. “Joe and I are still working on it,” Frank replied.
Dinner time soon rolled around, and their supply of water had already run low.
“Why don’t you fetch enough from the water tower to last the night,” Grandma suggested.
All four teens groaned. They were starting to feel the aches of all the work and play that day.
“Count your blessings,” Grandpa Morton said. “If it weren’t for that water tower, we’d either have to melt snow to get water, or you’d have to pump it out by the animal stalls and haul it in from the barn. That’d be almost double the work.”
“I suppose we should be thankful that the big tank isn’t frozen, too,” Iola said.
“That foam insulation in the tank usually keeps it usable,” Grandma said, “so there should be enough in there to last us a while. I’m just glad we didn’t empty it for the winter like we usually do.”
“I have to admit,” Grandpa said, “I just plain forgot. It turns out to be a blessing in disguise, though.”
“Too bad we can’t just run that old firehose up to the house,” Frank said.
“The hose is pretty frozen from the other night,” Grandpa noted. “You could hit it with a hammer and not bend it. We should probably take it into the barn to thaw out, now that I think of it.”
“I don’t think that old hose is very sanitary, anyway,” Grandma added. “I certainly wouldn’t want to drink out of it.”
“C’mon, gang,” Joe said. “It’ll go faster if we form a bucket brigade.” He rose and headed for the back hall.
“Sounds like a plan,” Frank agreed. He, Chet, and Iola followed.
Their snowsuits hadn’t completely dried yet after the snowfight, so they were all a little damp and miserable as they trudged outside.
Chet shook his head. “Look at this,” he said, gazing at the drifts covering the driveway. “I’ll have to blow it all clean again tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe they’ll get the
The Hardys went and patched the barn wall under Grandpa’s direction while Chet cleared the driveway. The repairs were more difficult without power tools, but Mr. Morton still had plenty of old-fashioned woodworking implements lying around the barn, in addition to the boards they needed for the patch.
Iola helped Grandma with the household chores. Then the boys carried in enough wood to last them for the night.
By mid-afternoon, they all had some free time, so the teenagers went outside and built snowmen and a snow fort while the Morton grandparents napped. After a snow fight, the teens happily sipped hot chocolate while sitting around the fireplace and recounting tales of their exploits.
“Maybe those snowmen we built will scare off the prowlers,” Chet speculated. “In the dark, they might look like sentries.”
“They’d look more like guards if you hadn’t been plunking them with snowballs,” Iola noted. “Now they’ll only work if the burglars think we’ve hired the Big-Puff Marshmallow Men to guard our house.”
“Or that TV salesman guy who’s made out of car tires,” Joe added, laughing.
“Fear me! I am the amazing blubber man!” Frank said. He lumbered across the room, imitating a walking snowman.
“Okay, so maybe that won’t work,” Chet admitted.
“I doubt these felons would be frightened off by a scarecrow anyway, Chet,” Iola said. “After all, Bernie didn’t chase them away, and he’s a pretty good watchdog.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Joe said. “I’m wondering if maybe someone fed Bernie some drugged food.”
“That occurred to me, too,” Frank said. “You remember how sleepy he was the night someonewas skulking outside? And then he got taken away with no signs of a struggle.”
“None we could find,” Chet said.
“Either he was drugged, or he got nabbed by someone he knew and trusted,” Joe said.
“That makes sense,” said Iola. “But who?”
The Hardys shrugged. “Joe and I are still working on it,” Frank replied.
Dinner time soon rolled around, and their supply of water had already run low.
“Why don’t you fetch enough from the water tower to last the night,” Grandma suggested.
All four teens groaned. They were starting to feel the aches of all the work and play that day.
“Count your blessings,” Grandpa Morton said. “If it weren’t for that water tower, we’d either have to melt snow to get water, or you’d have to pump it out by the animal stalls and haul it in from the barn. That’d be almost double the work.”
“I suppose we should be thankful that the big tank isn’t frozen, too,” Iola said.
“That foam insulation in the tank usually keeps it usable,” Grandma said, “so there should be enough in there to last us a while. I’m just glad we didn’t empty it for the winter like we usually do.”
“I have to admit,” Grandpa said, “I just plain forgot. It turns out to be a blessing in disguise, though.”
“Too bad we can’t just run that old firehose up to the house,” Frank said.
“The hose is pretty frozen from the other night,” Grandpa noted. “You could hit it with a hammer and not bend it. We should probably take it into the barn to thaw out, now that I think of it.”
“I don’t think that old hose is very sanitary, anyway,” Grandma added. “I certainly wouldn’t want to drink out of it.”
“C’mon, gang,” Joe said. “It’ll go faster if we form a bucket brigade.” He rose and headed for the back hall.
“Sounds like a plan,” Frank agreed. He, Chet, and Iola followed.
Their snowsuits hadn’t completely dried yet after the snowfight, so they were all a little damp and miserable as they trudged outside.
Chet shook his head. “Look at this,” he said, gazing at the drifts covering the driveway. “I’ll have to blow it all clean again tomorrow morning.”
“Maybe they’ll get the
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