“I don’t think we ought to, Kent. For some reason that we don’t know, whoever went into the shed is hiding. That shows he is up to no good. Such a person may have a gun on him, and if we break in, we may get shot.”
“I suppose you’re right, but I do want to have a few words with that fellow. No matter who he is or what he is up to, he could at least shout out directions. What are we going to do? Wait awhile until he comes sneaking out?”
“We could do that. We could hide and watch the place and then go into it when he comes out. But look here, isn’t this quarry familiar to you? Isn’t it the one we can see from the lodge?”
Kent looked around, impatiently brushing the snow from his collar. “I don’t know. All quarries look the same, especially in a storm.”
“I know it, but how many quarries are there near the lodge? Only one that I know of, and we can see that one from the place.”
“If that is true,” said Kent, thoughtfully, “we have just wandered around in a big circle and come around in back of the lodge instead of approaching it from the side. By golly, we may be almost home!”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Barry pointed through a gap formed by the quarry and the dark, snow-laden trees of the forest. “The lodge would be in that direction, wouldn’t it?”
“I think so. Shall we hike that way?”
“Yes, let’s go. No use standing around here.”
“But suppose we’re wrong? We ought to try and get back here and break into this little building. We might wander until we’re exhausted, drop and then freeze. More than one hunter has done that, you know.”