The Upstairs Window
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!”