“What’s the matter?” they asked him.
“Looks like our sled down there! It is!”
The others joined him at the edge of the gully. Down below them a few feet they could see the sled, partly turned over, the front runners buried under some snow-laden bushes. Tim slipped down into the depression and located the rope.
“So there is where he hid the sled!” Kent exclaimed.
“And we tramped for miles looking for it!” Barry shook his head.
Tim toiled up the slope, dragging the sled after him. “He did more than hide it there,” he informed them, handing the rope to Mac to pull. “Whoever put it there just threw it in. One front runner is broken.”
Barry helped Mac pull the sled up. It was a low flat wooden affair with steel runners. Part of the wood over the front runner had been smashed.
“Some nerve on the part of whoever did it,” growled Barry, as they examined it. “I’d like to knock the stuffing out of the man!”
“Provided a man did it,” Kent said.
“Well, somebody did it, and I suppose it is the same one who has been prowling around this lodge. I mean to find this ghost or whatever it is that is making the trouble at this place.”