TRACK OF THE MARAUDERS.
For the moment both Jack and Harry were dumfounded by their discovery.
They stared around the hut, and then stared at each other.
“What’s the trouble?” asked Boxby, pushing his way inside behind them,
and followed by Andy and Pickles.
“They have stolen the sled and all of our things!” burst out Jack,
wrathfully.
A shout of dismay went up.
“Who did it?”
“Where have they gone?”
“Can’t we go after them?”
“I can’t cook no supper widout a pot or a kettle,” added Pickles,
dubiously.
“And we won’t have supper until we have our things back,” returned
Harry, quickly. “I’m not going to sit still and have my blankets and
the rest stolen.”
“Nor I! Nor I!” shouted the others.
“Most likely it was tramps,” commented Boxby. “I wonder how many of
them.”
“Light up some torches and we’ll take a look around,” ordered Harry,
and the suggestion was carried out with all possible haste.
But the search, minute as it was, revealed but little. Every article
of value had been carried off, the oven destroyed, and evidence was not
wanting to show that the marauders had tried in several places to ruin
the hut.
“It’s a burning shame!” burst out Andy. “It was bad enough to steal the
things, without ruining what was left.”
“It’s a piece of maliciousness, that’s just what it is,” returned
Boxby. “It looks like the work of a personal enemy.”
“But we haven’t any personal enemies up here,” said Andy. “We left them
behind in Rudskill.”
“Ain’t it mos’ too dark to go aftah dem fellers?” asked Pickles.
“It is dark,” replied Jack, “but by taking torches we can follow the
footprints, I think. There is nothing else to do. We can’t go to bed
without our blankets very well.”
“Come on, there is no time to lose,” urged Harry, and, hanging up their
deer meat and the heads and antlers, they started off, each with a
blazing pine knot held aloft of his head.
The track of the heavily-laden sled led across the creek, and off along
the shore of Rock Island Lake. They counted the footsteps of three
persons who had dragged the sled along. In several places the footsteps
showed all around the sled.
“That is where they had to stop to secure the load,” remarked Harry. “I
suppose they loaded so hastily that it kept slipping off. See, here is
one of the tin plates.”
And he picked up the article from where it lay, half buried in the
snow.
The plate was turned over to Pickles, and a sharp lookout was kept for
more of their belongings, which resulted in the finding of another
plate, two knives, a fork, and one small tin kettle.
“At this rate, we’ll find all of the stuff at the end of two or three
miles,” observed Harry. “The careless, good-for-nothing fellows! how I
would like to face them just now!”
And the look on his face showed that he was far from being in a
pleasant humor.
About a mile from the creek the track turned directly toward the lake,
and a hundred feet farther on was lost on the clear ice, the snow
having been blown in patches by the high wind.
“Here’s a state of things!” grumbled Boxy. “We can’t follow that trail
on the ice very well.”
“Let us take a look ahead,” suggested Jack. “They might have turned on
the ice for a short distance merely to destroy the trail.”
They looked on and also all about them, and even ran out on the lake
for a short distance, but it was useless. The trail was lost and could
not be picked up again.
At last the boys ceased their search, and gathered in a crestfallen
group to discuss the situation.
“It’s the worst thing that could happen,” said Boxy. “We can’t continue
to camp without our things.”
“No; unless we can get cooking utensils and blankets, we’ll have to go
home.”
“It’s too dark to do more to-night,” said Jack. “Let us make ourselves
as comfortable as possible and take up the search again as soon as day
breaks.”
“That’s the talk!” cried Harry. “We won’t give up till we catch those
rascals and recover our belongings.”
This proposition suited every one, and, thoroughly tired out from their
extra tramp, they returned to the hut.
Pickles set to work with a will to build up a roaring fire, and to
protect them from the cold while they slept without blankets this was
placed as closely to the opening of the hut as they dared to put it.
The small kettle came in handy for heating water, and a haunch of
venison was soon spitted over the fire. Despite their downcast spirits,
the boys all ate heartily. When they had finished, everything was left
in readiness for an early breakfast in the morning.
Luckily, it was not extra cold, and the wind came in such a direction
that the hut was greatly sheltered. So, although somewhat cold, the
boys still managed to put in a fairly comfortable night, sleeping as
they did, in their overcoats, with the fire just outside of the door.
At the first streak of dawn in the east, Harry was up, and he quickly
aroused the others. Ten minutes later they were eating breakfast.
“We’ll have to take some provisions along for dinner,” said Jack.
“There is nothing else to take but deer meat,” grumbled Andy. “Those
chaps took everything, even our squirrels and rabbits.”
“Well, we won’t starve on deer meat,” returned Harry, as cheerfully as
he could; “but, nevertheless, we’ll have an account to settle with
those fellows when we catch them.”
“Maybe they’ll defy us,” said Boxy. “Some tramps are mighty nasty.”
“What of that? We are all armed,” said Jack, and the look on his face
told that he was willing to fight for his own every time.
Pickles’ haversack was soon packed with cooked deer meat, the fire
was banked up for the day, and then off they sat in quest of their
belongings.
The sun was just rising over the hills, and it promised to be a fair
day, with but little wind. Through the brush and trees the ice and snow
glittered like silver and pearls, making the prettiest of pictures.
The boys had their guns loaded, and before they came to where the trail
moved down to the lake, Andy caught sight of a squirrel, and shot the
pretty animal.
“There; that will give us a taste of something else besides deer meat,”
he said, with some satisfaction, as he hung the game over his shoulder.
When the lake was reached, they halted as they had the night before,
and gazed around in hopes of seeing something which might have escaped
them in the semi-darkness.
But not a clew came to view in the vicinity. All around was the
glittering ice, that was all.
“Let us divide up into two parties,” said Harry. “One party to go along
the lake, and the other to go part of the way across, keeping an eye on
the various drifts on the ice. The trail is bound to turn up somewhere
before long.”
“Supposing we get separated?” asked Boxy.
“Fire a gun if you want to find the others, and fire twice if the trail
is found,” suggested Jack, and so it was settled.
Boxy, Andy and Pickles started off across the ice, while Jack and Harry
continued along the lake.
“It’s my opinion they came this way,” observed Jack. “It’s a long
journey across the ice on foot.”
“That’s just my opinion, too, Jack. Besides, if they were going to
cross the lake they would have done it from the mouth of the creek,
instead of picking a way through the snow and brush so far.”
“I’ve been wondering if that ghost, as Boxy calls it, had anything to
do with this,” went on Jack, slowly.
“Perhaps. The plunderers might have thought to scare us away from camp.
When they saw that wouldn’t work, they waited for us to go off on a
hunt.”
“It looks natural, doesn’t it? Well, let us hope we’ll clear up the
whole affair before night.”
On the two went along the lake, moving close to the shore, and
examining every little cove that presented itself.
Presently they came to another creek, about the same size as that upon
which the camp was situated. It was comparatively free from snow.
“They might have gone up this,” said Harry. “What do you think?”
“Perhaps. But let us continue up the lake,” returned Jack.
“Supposing you keep on, while I run up the creek a few hundred feet. If
I see nothing, I’ll soon join you.”
“All right.”
Jack turned to the shore once more, and was soon out of sight. Harry
proceeded up the stream, keeping his eyes open on both sides for
anything that might look like the trail.
He had scarcely moved onward a hundred feet when a low cry escaped him.
Stooping, he picked up the top of a coffee pot. He recognized it as
belonging to the outfit of the Zero Club. He had found the trail again!