  Satisfied by their inspection, the boys now went back into the cabin and began to fix things in order. All of them felt sleepy and somewhat dragged out, but in no mood to return to the sleeping bags. Faint streaks of real daylight were spread across the sky, and a new day was at hand. It was still snowing lightly, and the wind was cutting and sharp. Before long it was evident that there would be no sunshine that day. The sky was heavy and overcast. The trees were loaded with a mass of clinging white flakes, and the whole landscape was clothed in a simple beauty that the boys admired with enthusiasm. “If the sun would come out, how this snow would flash and sparkle!” Kent remarked, as they tucked away the bedding and prepared to get breakfast. “No sun today,” Barry predicted. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if we have more snow.” “Going to move over into that lodge this morning?” Mac inquired. “I guess so,” Barry nodded. “But first we want to go down to the lake and see if we can find any clues to what went on last night.” “We ought to scout around a little and see if we can find anyone in the woods who did the shooting,” Tim suggested. “We’ll do the best we can,” Barry assured them. “I want to get to the post office at Fox Point and mail my letter to Dad. We won’t be here much longer.” “No, we won’t, worse luck,” sighed Kent. “I’d like to stay right here until we do solve the mystery.” “Looks like we aren’t going to,” Mac shook his head. “It gets deeper all the time.” “Somebody has got to get more wood,” Tim called from the lean-to. “Who are the brave lads who will volunteer to chop or die for their native land?” “I’m brave, but this isn’t my native land,” Barry grinned. “You’d better do it, Tim,” Mac suggested. “You’re always carrying a little hatchet around in your belt.” “That’s no hatchet, that happens to be an ax,” growled Tim. “I’m all set to cook breakfast, and as it is going to be a tough job to cut wood under the snow, I’m calling for volunteers!” “He’s honest about it,” commented Barry. “It is hard work, so he wants somebody else to do it.” “I’ll do the chopping,” Kent said suddenly. “Come on, Mac, you go with me.” Mac stared at him suspiciously. “You seem mighty anxious. Where are you going to find a log to cut into?” “Upon the roof, my boy,” grinned Kent. “All we have to do is to toss a rope up and snake it down. Once it descends to the ground, we will fall on it tooth and nail and reduce it to kindling wood!” Mac seized his ax with alacrity. “And that means that the next time wood is cut, those two have to cut it wherever they can find it, doesn’t it? That’s fine! Let’s go!” “We’re sold,” Barry smiled at Tim. “The boys have put one over on us.” Mac and Kent went to work at once on the limb that hung over the peak of the roof. Standing on Kent’s shoulders, the twin looped a rope over a jagged stump of a limb and then jumped to the ground. Both of them pulled on the rope and the limb came sliding down the roof and thudded to the ground. “A good, dry piece of timber,” Kent exulted. “This will be easy to chop up for firewood.” They fell to their task with a will and soon had an ever-growing pile heaped up close to the front door. Barry came out to get some of it, and Tim started the fire in the rusty stove. Before long the delicious smell of bacon drifted out to the wood-choppers. Mac stopped and sniffed with rapture. “Boy, just smell that bacon! Isn’t that the finest aroma in the world?” “It certainly is when you are out camping,” Kent granted. “Everything seems to taste so good when you are out in the open a whole lot.” “Bacon, eggs, and coffee! What a combination! Say, while you fellows are at Fox Point today, why don’t you get some sausage?” “We’ll ask Barry, or whoever goes, to get it.” Breakfast was soon ready, and they tackled it with enthusiasm. Just as soon as the meal was over they set the cabin in order. All of them were anxious to get out and explore the lake front, but they were good campers and had an instinctive aversion to leaving the camp until it was in first-class condition. This was speedily done, and then they donned their outside coats and their hats and were ready to go. “Taking guns?” Kent asked. “Might as well,” Barry said. “Not that we expect to use them for defensive purposes, but we might see some game that we can knock over.” They left the cabin and locked the door after them. “Nothing in there of value except our provisions, skates, and sled,” Mac remarked. “But I suppose it is best to lock up.” “We’ll explore a little and then get back to our moving,” Barry proposed, as they plodded along through the snow down the slope to the lake. “We don’t want to spend another night in the Bronson cabin.” They soon reached the shore of the lake and searched it for footprints or other clues, but were unable to find anything. Proceeding along the edge of the frozen water, they hiked almost as far east as the mouth of the Buffalo River. When they were opposite Rake Island, Kent came to an abrupt halt and pointed. “Look, some fellows are on Rake Island. See them watching us?” Glancing across the ice sheet, they saw five figures standing in a group, apparently looking in their direction. Just as they noticed them, the group on the little island started across the lake toward them. The boys at once halted. “They are coming right at us,” Barry remarked. “Doesn’t it look like Carter Wolf in the lead?” Tim asked. Kent nodded. “Just what I thought. We’re in for trouble.” “Five to four,” murmured Mac. “Hold your horses,” Barry advised. “We don’t know what they want, and besides that we have guns and they haven’t anything in their hands. Don’t let them get near enough to take anything away from you. Maybe they only want to buy something.” “I can’t very well picture Carter Wolf wanting to buy anything from us,” Kent shook his head. The members of the island camp soon drew close to them, and there was no doubt that it was Carter Wolf and some of his friends from a neighboring town. These boys were expensively dressed, and Wolf wore a big fur coat and hat that looked odd as a camping outfit. They carried no weapons with them, and it was impossible to imagine what their object was. They approached the mystery hunters, and the silence between the two groups was strained. Barry decided to make the advances. “Good-morning,” he greeted. The other boys made no answer, but they slowed up and finally stopped a few feet away. Wolf’s face wore a frown, and his companions stood slightly in back of him. They were all boys who did not look especially healthy, and the boys from the cabin knew that they were all drinkers and considered themselves to be good sports. “You tried pretty hard to hit us last night, didn’t you?” Wolf began aggressively. “We didn’t have anything to do with whatever happened last night,” Barry answered him. “You’ll have to tell us all about it.” “We believe that,” sneered Wolf. “Just because you saw us sitting on the porch of that lodge, you blazed away at us. I can have you arrested for that.” Kent looked at him coldly. “The fact of the matter, Wolf, is that we were asleep in the Bronson cabin at the time that shooting happened. We got dressed and came out as soon as we could, and you and your friends were running across the ice. We didn’t have a thing to do with it.” “I suppose I’m to believe it or not,” scoffed the boy from the island. Tim dug down into his Mackinaw pocket. “I guess we can soon settle that question,” he said. “Here are the empty shells that we picked up outside our cabin after the shooting. You can see that they are far too big for our little rifles, and you know that it wasn’t a shotgun that was fired at you. Need any further proof?” It was evident that the boys from Rake Island did not, but they were in anything but a pleasant frame of mind. They were anxious to make trouble but had no ground to stand on. Wolf tried a new line of attack. “Your father has charge of that lodge,” he accused Barry. “If anything had happened to us, he would have been responsible. We had been up the lake to a dance hall and came back late. All we did was to sit down on the porch of the lodge because Hodge here was unsteady——” “Don’t be telling all you know,” spoke up a boy with a pasty, unhealthy-looking face. “Well, anyway, somebody shot at us,” Wolf went on. “If we had been hit, your father would have had to pay for it.” “I don’t think so,” Barry denied. “I guess you know that the lodge has the name of being haunted, and you were taking your own chances when you sat on the porch.” “Some fine day our bunch will go up there and crash in,” Wolf boasted. “We’ll see what all this ghost business is.” “If you can find out what it is, my father will be grateful to you,” Barry assured him. “But I wouldn’t crash into the lodge, if I were in your place.” “Don’t give me advice, Garrison! I don’t need any, and if I did, I wouldn’t come to you for it. You know that if I ever get a chance to square accounts with you, I’m going to!” “You haven’t any account to square,” Barry returned levelly. “You just think you have. We’re not looking for any trouble with you, Wolf, and the farther you stay away from us, the better we’ll like it!” “I think we ought to give you fellows a good beating,” cried Wolf, starting forward. But a companion named Carl Voss pulled him back quickly. “Come on back to camp and leave these kids alone,” he advised, his eyes upon the weapons hanging across the boys’ arms. “They didn’t shoot at us.” Wolf allowed himself to be dragged away, but his eyes were sullen and revengeful. “Some day it will be my turn to crow,” was his parting word. “Looks like you’re doing all the crowing right now,” murmured Tim, as they watched the other party start back to the island. |
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