They were still discussing it when they sat down to eat, and it furnished the main topic until bedtime. Gradually they drifted to other things and forgot the incident. They did not stay up long after supper. The cold was severe and did not encourage sitting around for more than an hour after the meal. After cutting a big supply of firewood they decided to turn in.
“The good old sleeping bags will serve us well tonight,” Kent said, as they prepared to turn in.
Barry brought a pan of melted snow from the fire. “Here is warm water to wash in,” he announced. “Hurry up and get at it, or it will freeze.”
Tim was the first one to wash, and he toweled his face and neck with chattering teeth. “Good night, but this is cold business,” he ejaculated. “Too icy to wash behind the ears tonight.”
Mac pulled off his shoes and shirt and sat on the sleeping bag while he washed. Then with a yell he slipped inside the warm lining of the bag, doubling up. “Boy, doesn’t this feel good!”
It did not take the others long to get into their bags. Barry and Kent shared one tent, and the twins had the other. After a few words they went to sleep, and utter stillness settled over the winter camp.
Several hours later Barry awoke and crawled out of the bag, shivering in the cold air. The fire was low, and he wanted to keep it going so that they could make a quick blaze in the morning. He pulled on his shoes and slipped into his Mackinaw. His hat followed, and then he stepped up and out of the tent, rubbing his hands.
He halted with a little shock. A short man in corduroy trousers and woodsman’s boots stood at the edge of the clearing, looking around the camp. At sight of Barry he crouched and fairly sprang into the bushes, beating a retreat from the place. His form had been shadowy and indistinct. Barry roused from his state of surprise.
“Here!” he called out, sharply. “What do you want? Who are you?”
There was no answer from the one who had been watching the camp. All was profoundly silent.