"Yep, we're prepared fer ye, Hounson," said Mr. Kimball. "I see ye've got yer instruments a' death 'n' destruction 'ith ye," noting some hooks and a number of long, shining, sharp knives which the old man laid on the rough plank bench near the boiling water.

"Good nippin' weather fer th' middle a' November," observed Hounson, warming his hands at the crackling blaze and nodding to the boys.

"'T is thet," replied Mr. Kimball, while he tried the temperature of the water with his finger. "Hot 'nuff," he said, as he drew his hand hurriedly away from the boiling fluid. "Might's well start in," and he motioned to the hired man. Hounson took up a long sharp knife, and the three men started for the pig-sty, which contained half a dozen squealing porkers, all unconscious of the fate in store for them.

Then came a busy period. While Mr. Kimball and his hired man held the hog down on its back, old man Hounson skilfully and quickly killed it by cutting its throat. Cruel as it seemed to Roger, the animals really suffered very little pain, so rapidly was the knife thrust into a vital part. Then the carca.s.s was dragged over to the incline, made of planks, which led down into a barrel of hot water filled from the steaming caldron, and soused up and down in this until the bristles were softened, so they could easily be removed by the three-sided iron sc.r.a.per. Next the pig was cleaned and made ready for the market, or for storing away for winter. The boys got the bladders, which they carefully preserved, as Adrian said he could sell them to the Indians at the Reservation, who put dried corn in them and rattled them at their dances.

It was hard work for the three men, this business of pig killing and cutting up and preparing the meat for winter use, and it took the most of the day. The next two were spent in separating the various portions of the hogs, while preparations were made for smoking the hams, with a fire started in the smoke-house, the smouldering blaze being fed with hickory chips, sawdust, and corncobs.

Next Mrs. Kimball, Clara, and Mrs. Hounson, who had been called in to help, got ready to make sausage into links. This work was kept up late one night, when several neighbors dropped in to give a.s.sistance. Roger and Adrian took spells at turning the crank of the machine which ground the meat up, and then they worked the lever which forced the plunger down and shoved the sausage into the links. Mrs. Kimball stood near as the long slender skin was filled. About every four inches she gave the skin a twist, which separated the sausage into the familiar lengths.

Clara held a big needle, and whenever an air bubble appeared on the surface of the skin, she skilfully p.r.i.c.ked it, that the sausage might last better, the admission of air to the meat hindering it from keeping well. It was a new and interesting experience to the city boy, and he enjoyed it very much.

When the work was finished there was a lunch of doughnuts, cheese, cookies, apples, cider, and nuts, and the boys listened while the womenfolks talked of the doings in Cardiff.

Thus was the long, cold, severe winter provided against in the Kimball homestead, which now held a bountiful supply of the various meats that pigs are noted for,--sausage, hams, bacon, salt pork, and spare-ribs.

Never was there such sweet cured hams, never such clean, cunning, appetizing links of sausage, never such evenly streaked bacon, and never such lean pork chops, with just enough fat on. There might come great blizzards, but in the big farmhouse none would be hungry.

The days pa.s.sed swiftly now, and the weather grew more severe.

Preparations for enduring the winter went on in all the Cardiff homes, and Roger began to antic.i.p.ate the delights of this season in the country, where the snow comes down to stay for months at a time.

It was the end of November, and a cold, bl.u.s.tery night, with banks of big gray clouds blowing up from the west.

"Thar's snow in 'em," prophesied Mr. Kimball.

And so it proved, for the next morning when the boys peered from the frost-encrusted window, they saw the air full of swirling, feathery flakes which covered the ground to a depth of two feet.

"This is fine!" shouted Adrian. "This means coasting on Lafayette hill."

The boys hurried into their clothes, for there was no fire in their bedrooms, and the only heat upstairs came from the stove-pipe, which pa.s.sed up through the chambers. From the kitchen came the smell of hickory wood burning in the range. It mingled with the odor of buckwheat cakes, fried sausage, and hot coffee.

"My! But that smells good!" cried Roger.

"You bet!" agreed Adrian, earnestly. "I can eat a dozen cakes this morning, with the maple syrup and the sausage gravy mother makes."

CHAPTER XIII

LAFAYETTE HILL

It was, indeed, good coasting down Lafayette hill. This was a long and, at certain places, a steep slope, which led from Cardiff village, over the mountain, to the town of Lafayette. A few miles beyond Lafayette was another settlement called Onativia. The long hill wound in and out, with queer twists and turns and an abundance of thank-'e-ma'ams, which made the sleds leap up in the air as the runners struck those spots.

The snow storm ceased in the afternoon, when Roger and Adrian, donning their boots, m.u.f.flers, and short jackets, trudged off to the hill, dragging clipper sleds with them. They found the coasting-place black and swarming with boys and girls,--hearty, st.u.r.dy youngsters, who laughed and shouted as they pelted each other with s...o...b..a.l.l.s. The white flakes had not become packed down hard enough yet to make the going good, but beneath the hundreds of tramping feet and the scores of sled runners, that process would not take long. The really swift and exciting coasting, however, would not begin until the bill was worn smooth and icy.

Roger and Adrian joined the happy throng of young people. Like the others they dragged their sleds part way up the hill, and then, leaping skilfully upon the narrow board, they slid down, going faster and faster as they gathered momentum. The hill was two miles in extent, but none of the youngsters cared to go to the top to get the benefit of the long slide. It took too much time to walk up, and they preferred the more rapid, though shorter skimming over the snowy surface.

"It isn't very good yet," said Adrian, as they reached the bottom of the slope, after an invigorating ride. "Wait two or three days, though, until the sun thaws it a bit, and it freezes some more, and then you'll see coasting that is coasting. You'll see a race that I bet you never saw one like before."

"What kind of a race?"

"A two-mile coasting race down this hill, for the championship of the valley, among the boys of Cardiff, Lafayette, and Onativia."

"You don't mean to say they race down this hill?"

"Sure. On big bob sleds. I'm captain of our bob, and you can go 'long this year. We'll have the race in about a week."

Just then Adrian saw some boy acquaintances.

"Hey, Ed," he called to one of them, "come here. And you, too, Jim."

Two boys joined Adrian, big, st.u.r.dy, red-cheeked lads, panting with their exercise in the crisp air. Roger was introduced to the newcomers, Edward Johnson and James Smather.

"I was just telling my cousin about our yearly championship race,"

explained Adrian, "when I happened to see you two. I suppose we'll have the contest, as usual?"

"Of course," said Ed, and Jim agreed with him.

"Looks as if we could have it by Sat.u.r.day," said Jim, carefully noting the condition of the hill.

"I guess it'll be packed hard enough by then," a.s.sented Ed. "I s'pose you fellers are ready for another lickin'," he added, grinning a bit at Adrian.

"If you can beat this time you're welcome to," was the reply, and Adrian seemed a little nettled.

"I reckon you won't walk away from the Lafayette boys as easily as you did last winter," said Jim to Ed. "We beat you the year before, and we can do it again, and Cardiff too."

"Don't holler 'til you're out of the woods," advised Adrian. "I've put new runners on our bob."

"You'll need 'em, from the way she hung back last winter," laughed Edward, who had been captain of the victorious Onativia team the previous year.

The three-cornered race had been won by Lafayette two years in succession, and, as in the contests over which Adrian had been commander, his crew had lost in the struggle, their hearts were not exactly happy, though neither captain nor crew was discouraged.

"Shall we say Sat.u.r.day for the race?" asked Adrian at length.

"Suits me," came from James.

"I'm agreeable," a.s.sented Edward, and thus the three captains arranged.

This was Tuesday when the date for the contest was set. After making up the details with his opponents, Adrian proposed a few more coasts down the hill, and then he and Roger trudged off home.

"Do you think you'll win?" asked Roger anxiously as he plodded along the scarcely broken road. He was almost as interested as Adrian, for, though he had so recently come to Cardiff, he already felt himself one of the boys there.

"It's hard telling," answered Adrian, after a pause. "The Onativia boys have a very swift bob, and they usually manage to get off a little quicker than we do. We'd have won last year, if they hadn't got to the narrow part of the road before we did."

"What happened?" asked Roger.

"Why, we couldn't pa.s.s 'em, as there was only room for one sled there.

So they came in first. But I've got a plan for this race, though, that ought to bring us in ahead, if I can only work it out. You just wait, that's all."