Their spirits were climbing with every step, and now that the cold adventure was about over with, they felt strength and confidence returning. With the knowledge that they would soon be reunited with the boys in the lodge, they were beginning to forget the suffering and anxiety of their wandering in the storm.
They approached the lodge from the timber that grew close to the back of it, and as they drew nearer, they heard three loud thumps.
“The boys must be nailing something on the walls,” Barry remarked.
“I’m glad they left that lamp in the window,” Kent observed. “It has been a life-saver for us.”
“Here comes one of them around the house,” Barry exclaimed. “I wonder what he is doing?”
The returning travelers were just on the point of leaving the shelter of the trees and crossing the open space to the lodge when the appearance of someone from the porch stopped them. A figure in black raced along the side of the lodge and crouched near the window where the lamp stood. At the same time the lamp was taken away and the boys in the woods saw Tim’s face briefly through the window.
“Say, that’s not Tim or Mac!” Barry cried, in a low tone, as they stood and looked at the black shadow stooping beneath the window. “The boys are in the house! Something is going on here!”
“Something funny, too,” Kent quivered. “Want to tackle that fellow by the window?”
Before Barry could answer, the black shadow straightened up and ran to the back of the lodge, disappearing in the tool house. The man seemed to have a long overcoat on, and he was a weird sight as he fled with long, loping strides to the tool house. Barry grasped Kent’s arm.
“Kent, that’s the spook of this lodge!”