“I can find it,” said Michelle, starting confidently up the road. “It was all fir and hemlock trees near it, except for a few birches. We must be close to it, Lucy.”
“But it’s idiotic,” said Bob crossly. “Suppose it keeps on snowing?”
“Then you can stay there all night,” said Larry. “I’ll take the girls home and come back. Why be stupid and risk a relapse? You know it’s cold you have to fear—you and Alan both.”
Silenced, Bob followed the others along the road. At the end of ten minutes Michelle cried out and pointed to the little lodge, showing beyond the first fringe of birch and fir trees. Its roof and doorstep were newly covered with snow. The door was padlocked and the red curtains drawn.
“Too bad I haven’t the key Herr Johann offered me,” said Bob as they approached the door.
Larry tugged at the padlock and twisted it, but in vain.
“Try the window,” Lucy suggested.
“Try giving the padlock a good kick,” said Bob. “That usually fetches them.”
Larry stepped back and drove his heavy boot-heel in a sort of backward swing against the side of the lock. The padlock snapped and flew off into the snow. The bar was bent against the staple. Larry wrenched it open and pushed wide the door. “Welcome, in the name of the Kaiser,” he said, sniffing the cold, musty air. “A fire is about the first thing we need.”
“There’s plenty of wood,” said Lucy, as the four entered the lodge and shut the door. “Michelle and I saw the shadow of the flames and heard them crackle while we were shivering in the snow outside. Ouf, I’m almost frozen! It has grown cold. Bob, I hope to goodness you haven’t hurt yourself.”