  The boys slept soundly throughout the night, and it was seven o’clock before Tim opened his eyes and looked around the unfamiliar interior of the Bronson cabin. For a moment he was unable to place himself, and then the events of the previous evening came to him. A glance at his companions showed that they were still asleep. The fire had long since gone out, and the place was cold. He struggled up into a sitting position. “It certainly is cold in here,” he decided, slipping out of the warm bag. “I’ll get our fire going at once. And believe me, I want a more comfortable bed than that one was!” He shivered while pulling on his clothes, and it was with satisfaction that he drew his heavy sweater down over his head. Then he looked around for water in which to wash, but the little that they had was frozen. “No bath until after I get the fire under way and melt some snow,” he thought. “I’ll probably need a wash worse after building the fire than I do now, anyway.” Kent woke up and looked at him sleepily. “Hello, half-size! You’re an early bird, I see!” “Yes, I am, full-size!” Tim retorted, reaching for his ax. “I’m going out and gather worms for the rest of you lazy birds!” “Fine!” Kent approved. “Hurry up and get a fire going, so that I can get up!” “Anyone who isn’t up by the time I come back with wood will get a snow rub,” promised the Ford twin. All of the wood had been used up on the previous night, and Tim was compelled to go out and hunt for a fresh supply. Accordingly he stepped out onto the hard-packed snow before the cabin, his eyes quickly taking in the lake and the surrounding country. For a moment he paused, taking in the beauty of it all, unconsciously drawing a deep breath of satisfaction. The sun was rising over the tops of the spruce and hemlocks and striking fire on the sheet of ice. Icicles gleamed from the roof slope of the big hunting lodge. At the edge of the timber a rabbit hopped out into the clearing, looked around with a jerk of his brown head, and then streaked off into the undergrowth. “By ginger, it’s a dandy morning. And those sleepyheads in there!” Tim knew that it was warm and comfortable in the sleeping bags, but the beauty of the new morning was worth looking at. He started off toward the timber to get his supply of wood, and then noticed a small shack close to the cabin. Investigating this, he was delighted to find a small stack of firewood. “Good luck! This will save me the trouble of cutting a supply right now.” He slipped the camping ax through his belt and carried a heaping armful of wood into the cabin. By this time all of the boys were awake. Kent was dressing, and Mac and Barry still enjoyed the comfort of the bags. “I’m glad to see that you fellows have decided to get up at last,” Tim greeted them. “We were afraid to face your wrath if we didn’t,” Kent smiled. “You got that wood in a mighty big hurry.” “Yes, it was ready-made. Found a small supply of it in a shack around on the other side of the cabin.” Tim heaped it into the fireplace and touched a match to the kindling. The boys watched the flame lick upward and then spread with a crackling sound to the remainder of the wood. “That feels good,” Barry approved, getting up. “The whole outfit thanks you, Timmy boy!” “You can express your gratitude in a more lasting and practical way,” Tim informed him. “Now that I have built the fire, suppose you fellows make the breakfast.” “We’ll agree to that,” Kent said. Barry began to open the package of bacon. “Tim, as long as you are dressed for the great out-of-doors, suppose you go get that long extension handle for the coffee pot from the sled.” “All right. Where’s the sled?” “Right outside the door,” Barry told him. “I don’t remember seeing it there, but I suppose it is,” answered Tim, as he made for the door. Mac rolled up the sleeping bags and put them away. “Do we have to sleep this way every night?” he asked. “No, we’ve got to work out some plan for better beds,” Barry replied. “This floor is hard and cold.” Tim thrust his head in the doorway. “Say, that sled isn’t here!” he called. “Isn’t there?” Kent demanded. “No, sir, it is not. We left it right here by the door, didn’t we?” Barry hastened to the door, followed by the other boys. “Yes, we left it there, with the long coffee-pot handle and a roll of canvas on top of it.” He looked around the ground and off toward the timber. “It is gone, all right. I’d like to know who took it.” Unmindful of the cold, they were all outside, standing in a group around the spot where the sled had been left the night before. The snow was too solidly packed to reveal any marks of the runners. “Well, that means that somebody was around here last night while we were all sleeping,” Barry remarked. “When I threw some water out before I went to bed, I saw the front runner, so the sled was here at that time. Anybody hear anything?” No one had. As if by common consent they all turned and looked at Bluff Lodge, standing solidly in the rays of the morning sun. “When are we going to look through that place?” Mac asked. “Sometime today,” Barry promised. “But first we want to see if we can get our sled back.” He studied the ground around the front of the cabin. “Not a mark.” “Look here!” cried Tim, who had been doing some hunting on his own account. “Somebody looked in the window at us last night!” He pointed to a row of fingerprints on the ledge of the window, and the boys crowded around in excitement. There were ten fingermarks in the snow that clung to the outside sill. “I wonder if those prints were there before we came,” Mac mused. “That snow is hard.” “They have been made by somebody who leaned down hard,” Kent decided, studying the marks. “You can see where the snow broke under his fingers. I didn’t look at this window ledge before, so I don’t know whether they were here before or not.” None of the boys had noticed the marks, but all of them were inclined to believe that whoever had stolen the sled had peered in the window and had made the prints. They were gripped with a feeling of mystery. “Things are starting pretty quickly,” Barry said, somewhat grimly. Mac glanced inside the cabin door and then sprinted forward with a shout. “Hey! The coffee is boiling all over the place!” The accident to the beverage was more of a benefit than an evil, because the boys had been standing in the cold air long enough to feel somewhat chilled. At Mac’s frantic whoop they crowded back into the building, and Kent rescued the blackened pot, scorching his hands in the act. They lost no time now in dispatching breakfast, and during the meal they discussed the trend of events. The fact that someone had been close to them during the night put them on their guard, and they determined to make a search for the missing sled at once. “We need that sled,” Tim declared. “When we go back to town we don’t want to have to pack all the stuff on our backs.” “We can do it if we have to,” Barry reminded him. “Of course, but who wants to? I’m wondering if the one or ones who took it did it for a joke or because they needed it.” “Might have been some of Wolf’s crowd,” Mac suggested. “We don’t even know if they are anywhere near us,” Kent protested. “If they are, I wouldn’t put it past them,” Mac went on. They hastily cleaned the dishes and then left the cabin, locking the door after them. Another attempt was made to pick up the trail, but there simply was no track to follow. “Nothing doing, we’ll just have to hike along and see what we can see,” Barry decided. The rest of the morning was spent in a fruitless tramp through the woods. They entered the timber back of the cabin and made a big circle around to the east, going along for several miles until they came out on the ice of the lake. During this time they passed only one home, where they talked for a moment with some poor children, who were the only ones home at the time. In all respects it was a deserted mountain country. They got back to the cabin at noontime and dragged a dead limb up before the door, planning to chop some firewood a little later. Dinner consisted of a large rabbit that Mac had shot on the morning trip, and after the meal was over the mystery hunters went to work. The twins and Kent began to wash the dishes, and Barry went out to chop the tree that they had dragged in. The plan for the afternoon was to make another search for the sled, this time on the other side of the hunting lodge. The country in this direction was much wilder than that on the side where the Bronson cabin stood, and just beyond Bluff Lodge they could see the ragged side of an old granite quarry. It was also part of the afternoon program to explore the lodge. Barry worked on the limb with a sharp, long-handled ax, and soon the pile of stovewood mounted beside him. After a time he paused to rest, leaning on the handle of the ax. The vigorous exercise had made him feel warm. His eyes traveled over to the lodge, and he scanned the place with interest, until one fact struck him forcibly. Quickly he straightened up. His gaze was fastened upon an upper window in the low loft space of the lodge. This window was partly open, and, as Barry looked, a certain conviction came to him. “It’s a queer thing about that window. I’ve looked over there several times, and I can positively testify that it wasn’t open before!” |
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