“I know it is, but we seem to have had a lot of visitors and prowlers around here. I don’t feel quite safe any more. If we did stay in this cabin, we’d have to build some sort of a shutter to put over that window, so that people couldn’t come looking in.”
“Do you believe it was any of Carter Wolf’s friends?” Tim inquired.
Barry smiled. “We’re trying to hang everything against his account, just because he has no use for us. No, I hardly think so. I wonder if any of his bunch carries a rifle big enough for these shells?”
“They might,” Kent said. “Some of his friends are sports and have good equipment. We know that he is somewhere near here, but I just don’t think that they had anything to do with it all.”
“Well, that artillery practice was too close to suit me,” Mac declared, as he began to get ready for bed again.
“I’m just wondering if anyone was hit or if they just yelled because they were scared,” murmured Barry, as the boys prepared to go to sleep again.
“I suppose we should have gone on down to the lake to see if anyone was hurt or not,” admitted Tim.
Mac placed fresh fuel on the fire, and they talked for another half-hour about the mysterious event of the night. The wind was rising and blowing more strongly, and the old cabin shook under the force of some of the blasts. At length the boys became quiet and sank away into deep sleep.
It seemed that they had scarcely closed their eyes when there came a thunderous booming crash that jarred the cabin. Something scraped down the roof and fell to the ground back of the lean-to kitchen. At the same time some stones fell into the fire, which had sunk to red embers, scattering it to right and left. The boys bounded up from their beds with rapidly beating hearts.
“What was that?” Tim shouted.