Slowly the boys circled about it, gradually coming closer, to give those within, if such unwarranted visitors there might be, a chance to either make their presence known in a friendly manner, or take their departure.
But there was no sign from the cabin of Camp No. 2, and, after waiting a little while, Tom and his chums moved forward. As they came nearer, they could see that some two or three persons had made a complete circle about the cabin, and had even advanced up on the rough steps that led to the front door. Whether they had entered or not was something that could not be stated with positiveness.
“Well, the door’s locked, anyhow,” Tom said, as he looked at the padlock. “But of course they might have a duplicate key.” He drew from his pocket the one Sam Wilson had given him, and a moment later Tom and his chums stood inside the cabin. They breathed a sigh of relief. No one opposed them.
Nor, as far as could be learned by a glance around the interior, had any uninvited guests been present. The place was in order, not as complete, perhaps as that of the first camp, but enough to show that it had been “slicked up,” after its last occupancy by the hunting party of gentlemen to whom Tom and his friends were indebted for the use of the camps.
“Skeel and his cronies may have been here all the same, looking for us,” said Jack, as he stood his gun in a corner.
“Why should they be looking for us?” inquired George.
“Now don’t start that list of questions,” objected Jack. “Ask Tom.”
George turned a gaze on his other chum.
“Of course Skeel may have been here,” admitted our hero. “We were never in this cabin before, and we don’t know how it looked, or how it was arranged. But if they were here, they don’t seem to have done much damage, and if they had a meal, they washed the dishes up after them.”
A look in the kitchen showed that it was in order. This cabin was built just the same as was No. 1, and the arrangements and furnishings were practically similar.