“Great work that the twins did,” approved Barry, as they followed the crowd out of the stand section.
“You’re right,” nodded Kent. “That gives us the edge on the championship. We’ll congratulate the boys when we see them at home.”
They found quite a crowd assembled at the station, and their train was not due for some time. There was a holiday spirit among the people, and the station was decorated with wreaths and sprigs of Christmas greens. Toys and candy were displayed in one case. The stoves at each end of the station glowed, and the heat felt good.
Kent and Barry joined a group of home school boys and chatted. Presently Barry left the circle and walked over to the counter to buy a newspaper. Obtaining one, he glanced over the headlines and then turned to the sport page. There were some comments on games and players, and he sat down on a high-backed station seat to read. On the other side two men were seated and talking, but Barry was too absorbed even to glance their way. It was a chance phrase that caught his attention.
“Anything new on that Bluff Lodge deal?” a voice asked.
The voice that answered was coarse and husky. “No. The old lady don’t want to accept my price. But let her hold out if she wants to. The value don’t go up any. Not on that place.”
There was a pause. Barry’s eyes were still on the print, but he did not see it. His ears were listening keenly. It was possible that they were talking about some other place than the haunted lodge. The words of the first man came to him once more.
“Nobody will rent the place. She’ll be ready to give it away before long.”
At that moment the train puffed into the station, drowning out every other sound. Barry growled inwardly. “It would have to get in just at this moment!” Folding his paper, he stood up casually and looked after the two men, who were walking out to board the train. One was tall and thin, and the other was short and chunky. He was unable to see the face of either one clearly.
“Now I wonder who those fellows are,” he mused. “No doubt Dad will know them, if they are connected in any way with Bluff Lodge. And from the way they talked, they have an interest in that place.”
A few days after the victorious soccer game with Berkley the high school closed for the Christmas vacation. With whoops of joy the boys and girls poured out of the institution of learning and started home, eager for the holiday and all the good things connected with it. A light snow had fallen the night before, and the country was clothed with a blanket of white.
“Tomorrow night Tim will sit up and try to see what Santa Claus looks like,” Mac grinned, as the four boys walked down the main street. “He always does, until Pa chases him to bed. He——”
Tim cut his speech short by neatly planting a hastily packed snowball back of Mac’s ear. His brother returned the fire, and finally Kent and Barry joined in, the fun becoming fast and furious. A group across the street began to bombard them, and then the four chums turned on the common enemy. In this manner, enjoying the sharp air and the good-natured fun, the boys came to Barry’s door and stopped for a final word.
“When shall we get started?” Tim asked.
“I think we ought to light out on the morning after Christmas,” Barry said.
“I don’t know about that,” Kent objected. “We have to buy some provisions and pack our sled, and we won’t want to do that on Christmas. Let’s make it two days after the great holiday.”
The others agreed to this. “As far as I can see, nobody knows why we are going,” Mac said.
“No, I think everyone believes that we are just going off on a camping trip,” said Barry. “That is what we want them to think. After all, we may not learn a thing about the mystery, and in that case our trip will be just a winter camp.”
“But we’ll work like the dickens to get a line on the spook,” promised Kent, as they parted.
Christmas Day was cold and gray, and late in the afternoon it began to snow. For several hours the light flakes fell, and the boys were beginning to worry. If the snow became too deep, their trip would have to be put off, and it looked very much as though the ice on the river would be covered in such a way that skating would be impossible. But the day following the holiday a wind blew the snow into drifts and banks and Kent reported that the river was clear enough to skate on.
Christmas Day passed off quietly, and the boys enjoyed it. There were gifts and family gatherings and a cheery air in general. The next day they busied themselves, preparing to go on their trip. In Kent’s barn there was a wide, low sled, and they began to pack it with supplies and food. Late in the afternoon they stood in a group and surveyed it.
“Guess everything is on there,” Barry said thoughtfully.
“I can’t think of anything else,” Kent admitted.
“Who is going to pull the sled at the start?” Tim asked, roping an ax down firmly.
Kent winked at Barry. “Seems like you twins ought to pull it all the way,” he said. “You are both the same size and would show up well in harness!”
“We wouldn’t look any better than you would,” Mac retorted. “Let’s flip a coin to see who pulls first.”
Several tosses of the coin indicated that Kent was to pull the sled first, and the twins pounded him on the back in derision. Darkness was now falling fast, and they separated for the night.
“What time are we starting?” Tim asked.
“We’ll get going at eight o’clock,” Barry decided. “There isn’t any great hurry. We’ll hunt a little on the way up there and can camp out tomorrow night.”
To the four boys, impatient to be on their way, the night seemed a long one, but the day of the start finally came and they were ready to go. Mr. Garrison had a final word with Barry.
“Here are the keys to the Bronson cabin, and this one is for the lodge,” he told his son, as the latter laced up his high-top lumberman shoes. “You can look around all you want to, but keep out of trouble. I’d rather that you would not camp in the lodge unless there seems to be some good reason for doing so.”
“All right,” Barry agreed. “But it will be permissible to look through the place, won’t it, Dad?”
“Oh, surely. I want you to go through the lodge, but I think you’ll be more comfortable in Bronson’s cabin. The lodge is a big, rambling place and not easy to heat. Have a good time, and start back in time for school again.”
Barry promised, and after bidding his family good-bye he was off on a trot across the intervening yards to Kent’s barn. He found his companions there, tying a few last minute articles fast. They greeted him joyously.
“We were just going over to ask your mother if you were up yet!” Mac hailed.
“She would have told you that I’ve been up a long time,” Barry smiled.
Kent slung his skates over his shoulder. “I guess we’re ready to go,” he said. “Who’d we decide had to pull the sled?”
“You know who,” Tim answered. “It won’t be any weight to pull when it gets on the ice.”
The mystery hunters set off for the Buffalo River, which flowed close to the residential section of Cloverfield. It was a clear, cold day, and their spirits rose with each step forward. The sun sparkled on the snowbanks and the icicles, until all the landscape flashed with beauty. All four of them rejoiced to be alive and able to go.
“I just feel like I could strike out and skate for hours,” Mac said.
“It’s a dandy day for a snow fight like we had at the high school last year,” Kent observed. “In fact, a fellow would feel like doing about anything on a day like this.”
“Except being at home with the mumps or something,” Tim chuckled.
“There is the old river,” Barry said, as they came in sight of the Buffalo. “Now we can get into real action.”
They sat on a rotted log beside the river and put on their skates. It was a cold job, and more than once they paused to blow on chilled fingers. But at last the skates were adjusted and the campers were ready to swing up the river toward Lake Arrowtip. They clumped down the side of the bank and slid out on the ice, cutting a few circles by way of warming up. Kent hooked the rope of the sled to the belt of his Mackinaw.
“I guess we’re about ready,” he nodded, and with a ringing sound the runners of the skates slid forward and they were away on their journey upriver.
For over a mile they kept up a fast pace and then moderated it somewhat, settling down to an even gait that would take them a long way from home if maintained for any length of time. They passed a few skaters and one group of high school boys in particular, with whom they paused to chat. From them they gleaned the information that Carter Wolf and some of his friends had started on their trip, going in a roundabout way by motor truck.
“They’ll find it a rough journey over any of these roads to Lake Arrowtip,” Barry commented, as they resumed their skating.
“I’d rather go this way or even to hike it,” Kent nodded.
“I guess Wolf would rather go the most comfortable way,” Mac observed. “I’ll bet the truck was heated in some way. I’m even surprised that Wolf will go camping in the winter time.”
Leaving Cloverfield far behind them, the boys followed the little river into the deep woods. In the forest the stream became narrower, but there was room for all of them, and they had gone seven miles before it became necessary to leave the ice sheet and take to the shore. They came at last to a place where a log was frozen broadside into the ice and a mass of refuse spoiled the smooth, glassy surface.
“First detour,” sang out Barry. “What do you say we hike some and see if we can bring down a rabbit?”
The others were agreeable, and they took to the shore. The trees were sufficiently far back from the banks to allow them to proceed. Pulling the sled was harder, and Barry relieved Kent of it. They tramped along, and just before noon Mac took a shot at a squirrel, but missed.
“Bum shot,” he exclaimed, in disgust.
“You needn’t lament over that,” Kent consoled. “It would be quite a job to bring that lightning dodger down with a rifle.”
At noontime they halted and made temporary camp. The twins cut into the wet wood and hewed to the center for the dry heart of it. The other two boys scraped away the snow and piled some rocks for a fireplace. After some fanning and blowing, the damp wood caught fire and blazed up.
Kent searched among the articles on the sled and then straightened up. “Say, look here. Did anybody think to bring coffee?”
The other three boys looked at one another blankly. “I didn’t,” Barry admitted, and the twins admitted the same.
“We can live without it,” Mac pointed out.
“Sure we can, but you know how good it tastes on a camping trip, especially in winter. We haven’t even got cocoa along. And I was sure that the sled was fully packed! Is there any place that we can get it along the line?”
“We could swing away from the river a little bit and get it at Fox Point,” Barry said.
“We’ll do that, then. I guess we can go without it for a few days. Come on and get your plates out.”
The journey was resumed immediately after dinner, and they skated for a few miles. Then some rocks made it necessary for them to go around, and they walked some more. Chancing to see an old mill on a branch of the river, they explored it, and before long nightfall was upon them and they stopped to make an overnight camp. Two small camping tents were set up and sleeping bags spread out. Then they made a fireplace and gathered a supply of wood. By the time that the fire was going it was pitch dark, and the flames flashed up into the inky blackness like living tongues, throwing the black tree trunks into bold relief against the white background of the snow-covered earth.
“Fellows, this is just right!” Tim exclaimed, looking around him with delight. Barry and Kent were bent over the fire, and Mac was coming in with a load of wood on his shoulder.
“It’s colder camping than we are used to,” Kent remarked.
Mac threw his load of wood on the ground. “Boys, we may be able to get some coffee,” he said. “There is another campfire just a short distance over there.”
The others looked up with interest. “Where?” Barry and Kent asked in chorus.
Mac pointed in the direction from which he had brought the wood. “Just a little way over there. I was chopping wood on the top of a knoll, and I could see their fire through the trees.”
“We could go over there and borrow some coffee,” Tim said.
“It would be nice to know who our neighbors are,” Barry commented.
“Unless,” said Kent, slowly, “those neighbors happen to be Carter Wolf and his particular friends. If so, the less they know about our whereabouts, the better for us.”
There was a moment of silence after Kent had spoken. The boys were not afraid of the Wolf boy and his companions, but they had no desire to camp too close to them. Carter possessed a mean spirit, and they felt it best to avoid him wherever possible.
“I hardly believe that they will camp out in the woods,” Tim said. “I’ll bet they will go to a cabin or some more comfortable place. If it is Wolf, he won’t give us any coffee.”
“Or sell us any, either,” Mac added.
“We wouldn’t need to walk right into that other camp,” Barry advised. “It ought to be easy to approach the place without making any noise. I think we should find out who is camping there.”
“Tim and I will go over and scout around,” Mac offered.
“All right,” Barry nodded. “We’ll get supper ready. If anything goes wrong, just sing out and we’ll come hopping over.”
“Nothing will happen if we get running first,” Tim grinned. “Shall we offer to pay for the coffee?”
“Sure,” nodded Kent. “They may have a small supply, and we wouldn’t want to take it away from them. If they give it to you, that will be all right, but we should offer to buy it.”
Tim pushed his camping ax down into his belt case. “Come on, Mac. Let’s see where you spotted that fire.”
Leaving Barry and Kent at the campfire, the two brothers hiked off into the woods to the knoll where Mac had been cutting wood. It was an uphill climb, and their breath showed in little, frosty clouds before they got to the place. Finally Mac pointed off through the spruce trees.
“There it is. See that fire down there?”
Following the direction of Mac’s mittened finger, Tim saw a small point of light down in a hollow. It came evidently from a small fire and appeared to be less than a half-mile away. They were unable to see anything else except the little flame.
“Somebody down there, all right,” Tim nodded. “Well, let’s go calling.”
“And we’ll look before we knock,” Mac chuckled. “It might be the wrong house!”
They descended the other side of the knoll and tramped on toward the lone campfire. Underfoot the snow crunched and broke with a cold, snapping sound and the rocks were slippery. The stars stood out brilliantly overhead, and they had no difficulty in making their way through the Vermont forest. They rounded a ragged bluff of rock, and the fire was now very near.
“Slow up now and let’s get a good look at this outfit,” Mac whispered.
Tim nodded silently, and they began to approach the camp as noiselessly as possible. Keeping behind friendly trees, they slipped closer and closer until they could see around the clear space in the center of which a small fire burned fitfully.
“It isn’t Wolf and his bunch,” Mac whispered.
“No, only a man and a woman,” Tim returned, in an equally low tone.
The camp was occupied by a man and a woman. Close beside the fire could be seen some camping equipment, a frying pan which had apparently been placed in the snow while hot, a knapsack, and a brightly colored blanket and a pair of gloves. Against a near-by stump leaned a rifle, and the man had a hunting knife at his belt. They had just finished supper, and the smell of fish lingered on the air. The woman was placing chunks of snow in a pan, and when this was finished she put the pan on the fire. There was a sizzling sound as the snow on the outside of the pot slid into the fire.
Before advancing any further, the boys studied the man and woman closely. They were dark-skinned and looked to be French. Both of them were warmly dressed for winter travel, and their camping equipment was battered and blackened, indicating much use. The woman wore a coat with a rich fur collar, and both of them seemed perfectly at home in the woods. They exchanged no words and were engrossed in their tasks. The man was cleaning scraps from a plate while the woman waited for the snow to melt.
Tim reached over and pushed Mac. “Might as well go to it,” he said, and the brothers left the shelter of the trees and approached the camp.
They had advanced several steps before the campers heard them coming. They had left the trees and were crossing the clearing. The woman was the first to hear them, and she lifted her head with a swift motion, and her black eyes seemed to glitter like those of an animal who was trapped. She spoke sharply in French to her companion, who dropped a plate and rose to his feet, his hand running backward toward his hunting knife. The woman looked around at the rifle.
“Hi!” greeted Mac, not very well impressed with the manner of the two campers. “May we come into your camp?”
“Look like you in ze camp now,” said the man, without a smile. “What you want?”
“We’re camping just over the hill,” Mac explained, his eyes on the woman, who had picked up the rifle. She was holding it muzzle down in the crook of her arm, but her eyes stared at them in a way that neither of the boys relished. “We found that we had forgotten to bring any coffee with us, so we saw your fire and came to ask if you could sell us any.”
“Sorry if we startled you,” Tim added.
“What you want?” the man asked again. The boys looked at him with some astonishment.
“I just told you,” Mac answered. “We came to buy some coffee.”
“You not come to buy coffee,” the man said, his chin coming forward in a way that was far from comforting. “You want somet’ing else, eh? You follow us, eh?”
“We did not,” Tim denied, indignantly. “We’re camping up here and we saw your fire, that is all.”
The woman spoke to her companion. “Pierre, listen!” She launched into rapid French, and when she had finished he shrugged his shoulders. She turned to the boys suddenly. “We not got coffee. We not got anyt’ing. You go back to your camp. Go back!”
She made a quick motion with the rifle, though she did not lift the muzzle, which still pointed downward. There was no mistaking the implied threat or the fact that the boys were not wanted. Mac felt angry at their unfriendly reception, but he felt it best to retreat at once.
“All right,” he said. “We only wanted to buy a little coffee. We weren’t going to ask you to give it to us. Come along, Tim.”
“We got no coffee. We got not’ing,” the woman repeated, and the twins turned and walked off, their eyes on the alert for any sudden move. But the woodsman and his wife stood by the flickering fire motionless.
No word was spoken until they were around the rock bluff, and then the boys looked at each other. “What do you make of that?” Tim asked.
“Well, I’ll be hanged if I know,” Mac cried. “Wasn’t that the limit? They acted as if we were a couple of criminals.”
“That’s probably what they are,” Tim advanced. Mac came to a halt.
“Why, of course! He said something about following them. I’ll bet those two are a couple of bad eggs. Maybe we’re lucky we got away from them.”
Tim urged him on. “Let’s get back to the camp,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “See what the other boys think about it.”
When they stalked into camp a delightful smell of pork and beans greeted them. Kent was piling fresh wood on the fire, and Barry was stirring a fork around among the beans. The sled had been cleaned off and was ready to serve as a table.
“Hello, what luck?” Barry hailed. “Get any coffee?”
“All we got was an order to get out of the camp pronto,” Mac answered.
“Almost got ordered off with a rifle,” Tim added, stooping down and warming his hands over the cook fire.
“What’s that?” Barry asked, sharply.
“Was it Wolf’s camp?” Kent inquired.
“No, it wasn’t. This is what happened.” Mac related the story, and the other two boys listened with interest and astonishment.
“Well, you certainly got a cool reception,” was Kent’s comment.
“Cool!” exploded Tim. “It almost froze us!”
Barry gazed off in the timber in the direction of the hostile camp. “That’s a mighty queer way for anyone to act when you just go and ask them to sell you coffee.”
“Yes, and they had coffee, too,” Mac avowed. “I saw the jar of it. Did you, Tim?”
His brother nodded. “As plain as day, right there beside the fire. But they acted as though we were poison.”
They were still discussing it when they sat down to eat, and it furnished the main topic until bedtime. Gradually they drifted to other things and forgot the incident. They did not stay up long after supper. The cold was severe and did not encourage sitting around for more than an hour after the meal. After cutting a big supply of firewood they decided to turn in.
“The good old sleeping bags will serve us well tonight,” Kent said, as they prepared to turn in.
Barry brought a pan of melted snow from the fire. “Here is warm water to wash in,” he announced. “Hurry up and get at it, or it will freeze.”
Tim was the first one to wash, and he toweled his face and neck with chattering teeth. “Good night, but this is cold business,” he ejaculated. “Too icy to wash behind the ears tonight.”
Mac pulled off his shoes and shirt and sat on the sleeping bag while he washed. Then with a yell he slipped inside the warm lining of the bag, doubling up. “Boy, doesn’t this feel good!”
It did not take the others long to get into their bags. Barry and Kent shared one tent, and the twins had the other. After a few words they went to sleep, and utter stillness settled over the winter camp.
Several hours later Barry awoke and crawled out of the bag, shivering in the cold air. The fire was low, and he wanted to keep it going so that they could make a quick blaze in the morning. He pulled on his shoes and slipped into his Mackinaw. His hat followed, and then he stepped up and out of the tent, rubbing his hands.
He halted with a little shock. A short man in corduroy trousers and woodsman’s boots stood at the edge of the clearing, looking around the camp. At sight of Barry he crouched and fairly sprang into the bushes, beating a retreat from the place. His form had been shadowy and indistinct. Barry roused from his state of surprise.
“Here!” he called out, sharply. “What do you want? Who are you?”
There was no answer from the one who had been watching the camp. All was profoundly silent.
Kent stirred and sat up in his sleeping bag. In the dimness of the tent he saw that Barry was not there. He heard the twins move and say something in the next tent. Then Kent seemed to remember that someone had spoken.
“Where are you, Barry?”
“Out here,” came the answer. “Somebody has been in the camp.”
Kent and the twins joined him as soon as possible. Barry was heaping more wood on the fire.
“You say somebody was in the camp?” Kent asked.
Barry pointed to the spot where the man had stood. “A man was standing there when I just came out to put more wood on the fire. I couldn’t make his face out very well, but he was a short, stocky fellow, and I just took it that he was the Frenchman you boys saw.”
“I’ll bet it was,” Tim answered. “Any of our things missing?”
Barry shook his head. “I believe not—at least I can’t see that anything is. It looked to me as if he had just arrived. What time is it, anyway?”
Mac tugged his watch out of his pocket and looked at the dial by the light of the fire. “Ten minutes past three a. m.,” he announced.
“I suppose they have broken camp and are on their way,” said Tim. “They may have just stopped by to take a look at us. You didn’t see the woman?”
“No, and I can’t even be sure that the man was that Frenchman. Did he have on brown corduroy pants and a checked Mackinaw?”
“Yes,” the twins nodded.
“Then that’s who it was. I could see that much by the feeble light of the fire, though I couldn’t see his face. Think we ought to go back to bed?”
“I’m too sleepy to sit up for any Frenchman,” Kent yawned.
“I don’t believe that he’ll come back,” Mac said. “I’m freezing around here, so I’m on my way back to the bed. Call me for breakfast!”
“Call you nothing!” cried Kent. “Barry and I cooked supper, so you fellows are billed to provide the breakfast.”
The others went back to their sleeping bags, and Barry built the fire up before seeking his. When he did crawl back into the soft, warm interior of the bag he did not go to sleep at once. For a long time he lay listening, but no sound broke the stillness, and at last he dozed off and slept soundly. He was awakened by Kent stirring around and crawling over him.
“Let’s go see what these twins have for us,” his companion invited, and Barry followed as quickly as he could get dressed. The Ford brothers were already on the job, and bacon was curling in the pan. The day was gray and overcast, and it looked as though it might snow.
“I guess our French friend didn’t come back,” Mac said, forking out bacon on the tin plates. “Everything is about ready to eat. Come and get it.”
Breakfast was soon dispatched, and then they put the camp in order. Before long they were on the river again, skating along rapidly, in order to warm up. They had gone scarcely a mile when bodies were warm and blood tingling.
“I hope it doesn’t snow until we get to the cabin,” Kent said.
“So do I,” Barry agreed. “A big fall would work against us.”
They had planned to eat one more outdoor meal, but they arrived close to Fox Point around the noon hour, so they had dinner in the country store there, eating sandwiches and drinking hot cocoa at a little table close to the round iron stove that threw out a splendid heat. They bought the coffee that they lacked and then started once more. At last they skated out on the broad expanse of ice that marked Lake Arrowtip.
“Here we are at last,” Mac whooped. “Let’s have a race down the lake to the cabin.”
“You can’t do it,” Barry objected. “See how that snow is spread out? You go a little way and then you have to walk across a snow bar and strike the ice on the other side. You just can’t keep going.”
“That’s all the better,” spoke up Kent. “It will be an obstacle race. Skate on the ice, run across the snow, and skate some more. Let’s line up and go!”
“I’m pulling the sled,” Barry reminded them. “But you fellows go to it and I’ll follow on. Are you ready? Get set. Go!”
The three racers were off like a shot, striking out across the clear ice of Lake Arrowtip. Coming to the soft snow that spread across their path, they leaped into it and ran through as fast as their skates would allow them to. Again they were out on clear ice, and for a time they skated furiously, with Mac slightly in the lead. Then another and longer island of snow slowed them down, and Tim tipped over, tumbling in the path of Kent, who had to swerve to avoid going down. By the time that Kent got on the ice again, Mac was far ahead and turned around in a swift circle and gave the race up, waiting for the others to catch up with him.
Barry skated on in a more leisurely manner, drawing the sled after him and taking in the beauty of Lake Arrowtip. He had visited the place in the spring and summer, but had never seen it in the grip of the New England winter. It presented now the picture of a broad flooring of ice, with the dark lines of pine and hemlock ringing it around. From the lake the hills ran up sharply, flowing into the mountains, blanketed with a thick white carpet of snow. Out in the middle of the lake stood Rake Island, a rugged little thumb of land covered with brush and timber and rough rocks.
Behind them the lake was broad, but before them it narrowed. Barry could now see the Bronson cabin and beyond it the roof of the lodge. His heart beat faster, and unconsciously he skated on with increased speed. They were close to the scene of the mysterious events that had interested him so much.
He joined the others, and they were soon at the bank before the Bronson cabin. Taking off their skates, they walked up the slope to this plain little log house, but their eyes were on the big hunting lodge. It stood on a bluff and could be approached only in a roundabout way from the lake, up the sides of the slopes and not from the front.
“There it is, the house of mystery,” cried Tim, as they took in the length of the low log lodge building.
“It looks cold and deserted,” Mac offered. “Doesn’t look as though it has any spooks around it at this time of year. Bet you a doughnut we don’t learn a thing.”
“That’s a mighty poor spirit to start our hunt with,” Barry objected, as he felt in his pocket for the key to the Bronson cabin.
Up to the moment they had paid no attention to the cabin in which they were going to live, but now, as Barry unlocked the door, they scanned it with interest. It was nearly square and was made of rough hewed logs. It appeared to be very old, and there was only one small window to the left of the door. A rock chimney pushed its way through the roof.
“We’ll like this place when we get used to it,” Kent predicted.
Barry pushed the door open, and they entered. There was a large general room, and a small lean-to which served as a kitchen. A single bed with sooty covers was pushed up against the wall on one side of the room. A wide fireplace with rusty andirons in it showed at the back of the cabin room. Everything was dirty and dreary-looking.
“Hasn’t been used for some time,” Tim commented, as they stood and looked around.
“No,” Barry admitted. “Dad said it hadn’t. We’ll have a lot of cleaning and fixing to do. Also, we’ll have to sleep on the floor in our sleeping bags, as there is only one bed in the place, and it doesn’t look very inviting. Well, how about it? Shall we go to work?”
The others were entirely agreeable, and they set to with a will. There was an abundance of work for everyone, and so the afternoon hours sped away. Just before dark they united their efforts and cut enough wood for the winter evening. It was dark when they had gathered enough, and then they turned their attention to supper. There was a rusty iron stove in the lean-to, and between that and the open fireplace they managed without any trouble. Supper was a happy affair, and when the wind rose a little later, they congratulated themselves that they had a warm cabin to camp in.
“And it looks a heap cleaner than it did when we came here,” Mac remarked, looking around with satisfaction.
They spent the long evening chatting around the fireplace and at last sought their sleeping bags on the log floor before the fire. Barry opened the door to throw out some wash water and stood for a moment, his eyes fixed on the darker mass of the lodge building.