“No, we’ve got to work out some plan for better beds,” Barry replied. “This floor is hard and cold.”
Tim thrust his head in the doorway. “Say, that sled isn’t here!” he called.
“Isn’t there?” Kent demanded.
“No, sir, it is not. We left it right here by the door, didn’t we?”
Barry hastened to the door, followed by the other boys. “Yes, we left it there, with the long coffee-pot handle and a roll of canvas on top of it.” He looked around the ground and off toward the timber. “It is gone, all right. I’d like to know who took it.”
Unmindful of the cold, they were all outside, standing in a group around the spot where the sled had been left the night before. The snow was too solidly packed to reveal any marks of the runners.
“Well, that means that somebody was around here last night while we were all sleeping,” Barry remarked. “When I threw some water out before I went to bed, I saw the front runner, so the sled was here at that time. Anybody hear anything?”
No one had. As if by common consent they all turned and looked at Bluff Lodge, standing solidly in the rays of the morning sun.
“When are we going to look through that place?” Mac asked.
“Sometime today,” Barry promised. “But first we want to see if we can get our sled back.” He studied the ground around the front of the cabin. “Not a mark.”