One day, as they were tramping through the woods in the still deep snow, they came upon a little decrepit-looking one-room shack, standing dejectedly within a circle of skeleton trees.
They had wandered further than usual from camp in exploring the surrounding country and had come upon the tiny cabin unexpectedly. Jimmy was about to utter a gleeful shout at sight of the interesting-looking place when Bob clapped a warning hand over his mouth.
“Keep still,” he whispered sharply. “I hear voices in there.”
“Well, what if you do?” demanded Joe, but he kept his voice cautiously lowered just the same. “Probably some harmless dubs——”
“Like ourselves,” finished Jimmy, with a grin, “seeking shelter from the bitter weather.”
“Well, whoever they are, they sure are mad about something,” said Bob, hardly knowing why he should be so excited.
The voices inside that one-room shack had been raised in altercation, but now, as the boys listened, somebody evidently cautioned silence, for once more the tones were lowered almost to a whisper.
“There’s something mysterious about this,” said Bob, his eyes gleaming joyfully. “I vote we look into it.”
“Right-o,” agreed Joe, following the leader as Bob started softly toward the shack.
What they expected to find they had no idea. But it was an understood, though unspoken, rule with the radio boys never to pass by anything that looked in the least mysterious. And certainly this queer little shack in the woods bore all the air of mystery.