“I’ll get the lantern,” Mac offered. “You fellows want your hats and gloves?”
They agreed heartily that they did, for the night air was penetrating, and before long the sandy-haired twin was back with the lantern and their warmer clothing. In a short time they set out across the open space toward the lodge, keeping a sharp watch on every side. The flashes no longer came from the lake.
Back of the lodge they flashed the lantern around the ground, looking for footprints, but the snow had been blown around in such a way as to make it impossible for them to find any. They did not waste many minutes in the hunt, as the cold was too keen, but soon gave it up and started back to the cabin.
“Nothing doing,” Barry announced. “And I’m not going to stay out here long. That wind feels like a knife. Me for the fire!”
His companions were of the same mind, and they were approaching the cabin when Tim stopped and fumbled into the snow. When he straightened up he held an object in his hand, and as soon as he had wiped it off he whistled.
“Hey! Look here, fellows. A rifle shell!”
The boys bent over his extended hand and examined the metal cartridge with interest. Then Kent began to brush through the snow in search of others. Before long he had found three more.
“This is where the fellow stood that fired those shots,” he announced.
“Pretty close to our cabin,” Barry said.
“These shells came out of a big rifle,” Mac observed. “Did you see that shell on the ground, Tim?”