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Updated: May 10, 2025
My, but they do look like some of the fellows that Hen Dutcher used to tell us about. Hen used to waste more time on dime novels than " "Shut up!" again commanded Duff. "These gentlemen feel that there is no need of their being recognized." "Then why didn't Fred Ransom, of the Colthwaite Company, cover up the scar on his chin?" retorted Reade.
"Not far from ten o'clock." "Yes; past bed time for all of us." "Do you feel sleepy?" demanded Dave. "I don't," chorused four or five. "Let's sit up as late as we like, for once," proposed Greg Holmes. "That's part of the fun of camping." "Humph! I want to go to bed," gaped Dutcher. "Well, there's nothing to stop you, Hen," responded Dick pleasantly.
Dodge, Jan. 17, 1847, and the following gentlemen were constituted the first Board of Trustees: Henry Dodge, Loyal H. Jones, Jacob L. Bean, Wm. H. Sampson, N.P. Talmadge, Henry R. Colman, H.S. Baird, Wm. Dutcher, M. C. Darling, M.L. Martin, Geo. E.H. Day, D.C. Vosburg, and Reeder Smith.
Dick leaped from his bunk and began to dress. Dave and Greg followed suit. "We'll do our best to find out what it is, fellows," Dick promised them. Hen Dutcher was chattering and half sobbing. "If I I ever g-g-get out of this alive," he chattered, "I'll never stick around y-y-y-you fellows again. I was a f-f-f-fool to let you fellows coax me into staying here."
"Potatoes will be the first thing ready for dinner, Hen," observed Prescott mildly. "As you're not doing anything outdoors, you might get busy peeling a big pan of potatoes." "See here," flared Dutcher, "I told you before that I'm no servant, and " But Dick had risen, for the clock informed him that it was time to relieve the shift out in the deep snow. "Suit yourself, Hen," replied Prescott.
We have to go in a body, or the Windsor fellows won't leave us alone. There's safety in numbers." "Pretty hard lines when boys have to go six miles for a skate," commented Mr. Rogers. "Well, it's that or nothing," laughed Ned. "There isn't a saucerful of ice any nearer, except that small pond in Old Dutcher's field, behind his barn. And you know Old Dutcher won't allow a boy to set foot there.
In the meantime the others, restrained by a sense of what was due from hosts, held back their curiosity. "There, I don't believe I could eat another mouthful," declared Dutcher, at last, pushing back from the table. "Now, Hen," invited Dick, "come over to the fire and tell us how you came to be here." "Why, I just naturally was hereabouts," declared Hen evasively.
They were busy getting on coats, caps and mittens. A few moments later they had the door open, and stood out on the hard crust of snow, waiting to receive the approaching party. Dave espied them, and waved one hand without calling. "You'd better get back in here! You'll get hurt!" warned Hen Dutcher, standing well back from the doorway. Like a flash Dick leaped for the doorway.
But none of the other fellows in the group on the ice seemed inclined to take young Dutcher at his own valuation. Hen Dutcher was a peculiar chap, at any rate. His worst fault, probably but one that led to other faults was his egotism. He was always thinking about himself and his own puny little interests. For the life of him, Hen couldn't understand why he wasn't popular with other fellows.
But I wish the home folks knew how comfy and happy we are." "I'd like to see myself out of this," grumbled Hen Dutcher, lying huddled in his bunk under the pile of overcoats. "Say, fellows, is it warm enough for me to get up yet?" As all of the real boys in the party were already up, none of them thought it necessary to answer Hen, who presently slid out of his bunk and began to dress rapidly.
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