“Or your sausage,” Tim grinned.
“It won’t be mine alone. You know that you like it yourself and so do the other boys. Well, I’ll be back in a few seconds with some wood.”
“We haven’t got much of it,” Tim said. “We’ll have to cut some more.”
“I know it. That is the biggest job we have.”
Mac left the lodge, and Tim busied himself piling some newspaper which he had brought in the fireplace. There were some ashes left from a previous fire, and he cleaned them out and carried them in a pail to the kitchen, where he unlocked the back door and took the pail out to where the bushes grew in a wild tangle. Here he dumped the ashes and then looked around. The door of the Bronson cabin was open, and he could see Mac inside.
Returning to the lodge, his eyes lighted on a small shed joined to the kitchen. It was one part of the lodge that they had not inspected, and his curiosity was aroused.
“Wonder what that place is. But I suppose it is locked up.”
He tried the knob on the door that led to the small shed and found that it was locked. The key ring for the lodge was still in his pocket, and he took it out, examining the keys closely.
“The key to this shed may be on the ring. Nothing like trying.”
He fitted two keys to the lock on the shed, and the second one fitted. One turn and the lock slipped back. He pulled the door open and peered inside. Then he gave a whistle of surprise and pleasure.