“I don’t snore,” retorted Mac. “At least I’ve never heard myself!”
Barry and Kent were going by guesswork and at first were unable to find the place where they had left the sled, but just as they were becoming discouraged Kent pointed off to the left. “There’s a small bluff, and it looks like it might be the place,” he said.
“It was snowing so hard at the time that we couldn’t be certain of anything,” Barry said. “But that looks like the place. Yes, it is!”
They found the sled still buried under the tree limbs and bushes, but it was evident that some animal had been scratching around in an effort to get at it. “Probably a fox,” was Tim’s guess. Nothing had been disturbed, however, and they started back to the lodge with the sled. As they came out of the timber Mac pointed ahead of them.
“Somebody is standing close to the lodge,” he said, in a low voice.
They saw a man standing near the front porch, looking around him as though in perplexity. He was evidently a woodsman, and he held something in his hand. Upon seeing the boys he hastened to meet them.
“Howdy-do,” he greeted. “Which one of you boys is named Garrison?”
“I am,” Barry informed him. The man held out a letter.
“Here’s a letter to you. I passed through Fox Point this mornin’, and I’m goin’ down to the head of the lake, so the storekeeper asked me to take it.”
“Thanks a lot,” Barry acknowledged, noting that it was from his father.