"Let's see if any one is there."
Cautiously they moved forward, stopping every now and then to listen. But no sound came to them. The cabin remained as dark and as silent as when they first saw it. Foot by foot they moved nearer, until Jack was so close he could put out his hand and touch the door. He knocked loudly, and the echo sounded almost like thunder in the quiet night- enshrouded valley.
But no answer came, though the boys waited several minutes. Then Jack pushed on the door. It opened, with a squeaking of hinges that must have alarmed any occupant, unless deaf. No challenge came, and the two lads stepped inside.
"Look out where you're going," said Nat. "Hold your hands in front of you, and feel with your feet. You may tumble down a hole."
Jack did as directed, and, a moment later, his outstretched hand knocked over something that fell with a crash to the floor.
"What's that?" exclaimed Nat, in a startled whisper.
"Candlestick and candle," replied Jack, as he stooped down and picked up what he had knocked down. "Matches too," he added, as he found them scattered over the floor.
An instant later he had struck a light, and in the gleam of the tallow dip the boys saw they were inside a comfortably furnished cabin. It consisted of two rooms, one a sort of kitchen and general sitting apartment, and the other a bedroom, with two bunks against the wall. There was a rough table, a few chairs and a fireplace. Cooking utensils scattered about, and the appearance of the bunk room, showed it had been lately occupied.
"I wonder if my father could have lived here," Jack remarked. "Where can he have gone to? Perhaps he is dead."
"Must have been some one here recently," said Nat. "That food looks fresh."