“Hold on a minute, boys!” he said. “I want to take a look there before you step out in the snow.”
“What’s the matter? Are there traps set under the drifts?” asked Bert.
“No, but it looks to me like someone had been tramping around that cabin. I never made them footprints,” and he pointed to some in the snow.
The snow on the driveway, leading from the main road through the woods, up to the hunting cabin itself, was not disturbed or broken by the marks of any sled runners or horses’ hoofs. There were, however, several lines of human footprints leading in both directions.
“Just a moment now, boys,” cautioned Sam, who was following a certain line of footprints, at the same time stepping in a former line, that he had evidently made himself, for his boots just fitted in them.
“What in the world is he doing?” asked George. “Has anything happened? Has a crime been committed? Is he looking for evidence? Why doesn’t he go right up to the cabin?”
“Any more questions?” asked Jack, as the other paused for breath. “It seems like old times, Why, to hear you rattle on in that fashion.”
“Aw——” began George, but that was as far as he got. Sam was ready now, to make an announcement.
“I thought so!” exclaimed the guide. “There has been someone else up here since I left this morning. Someone has been snooping around here, and they hadn’t any right to, as this is private property.”
“Did he get in?” asked Bert, thinking perhaps all the “grub” might have been taken.