“It is a nice place,” thought Hugh. “I do not wonder Oscar likes to live here, but—well, winters must be pretty long and lonely.”
Oscar came in presently and they had supper before the blazing fire, a meal as odd and delicious as breakfast had been. After supper there was much work to be done in which Hugh lent a hand, wood to be cut and carried in, water to be fetched from the spring half way down the hill, the cow, Hulda, to be fed and milked. The long twilight was nearly at an end and Hugh already feeling sleepy again before they finished at last. Oscar, it seemed, had spent most of the day in searching the nearest hillsides for traces of John Edmonds and his brother, but had to report blank failure so far.
“But if they are alive they are in this region,” he said. “They would not have gone far north, for the woods and swamps in that direction are almost impassable. Nor, if Edmonds wanted to hide for any reason, would he go toward the east end of Red Lake where there are more settlements and the Indian reservations.”
He brought out a rude map made evidently by himself, showing in rough drawing the western end of the lake and the watercourses.
“We will divide it off into squares,” he said, “and search one square of country every day. Then, if we don’t find where they are, we will at least know where they are not. We will begin with this one to-morrow.”
“Wouldn’t it be quicker just to follow up the main streams and the most likely valleys first?” asked Hugh.
Oscar was slowly rolling up the map and putting it in its place.
“It would be quicker—and we might miss them on the way,” he said. “If we are to do the thing thoroughly, we had better not hurry too much.”
Hugh was to learn that this was Oscar’s method of doing all things. He did not agree just then that it was the best, but, on looking back afterward, he wondered at his own stupidity.
“Will we meet Half-Breed Jake, do you think?” was all he asked, however.