“We’re at the foot of the hill,” spoke Bony. “That’s something,” and he tried to crack his knuckle joints, forgetting that he had thick mittens on.
“Let’s see what’s beyond those trees,” proposed Jack, after they had rested, and he pointed to some dark pines that fringed one shore of the pond. “Bring your guns, fellows, and come on.”
“What about the grub?” asked Nat.
“Leave it on the sled,” replied Jack. “We’ll probably come back here.”
He led the way to the trees, and passed beyond the natural screen they formed, followed by his chums. No sooner had he penetrated the thick branches, than he uttered a cry of surprise. And well he might.
For in front of the young hunters was a strange camp, a large one, consisting of a big shed-like structure, with several small log cabins grouped around it. And the place smelled of gasolene, while from one of the cabins came a noise of machinery in operation.
“Boys!” exclaimed Jack, “we’ve found the place.”
“Yes, and there doesn’t seem to be anybody here to stop us,” remarked Nat.
They stood for a few moments on the edge of the camp, the secret of which they had tried to solve several times before.