“Well, he didn’t get the papers, and that’s one comfort,” said Chet, with a sickly grin.
There was now no use in going to Lodgeport to see a lawyer, and instead, Andy and Chet went out again for another search. But this was as useless as the others. Not a trace of the missing documents could be found anywhere.
“Might as well give it up,” sighed Andy. “They are gone, and that is all there is to it.”
Again matters were talked over, and Barwell Dawson advised Andy to go home and face his uncle.
“If you wish, I’ll go with you,” said the hunter. “Perhaps I can get him to tell just what that A. Q. Hopton was up to.”
“I’d like it first-rate, if you would go along, Mr. Dawson,” answered the boy quickly.
“Want me along?” asked Chet.
“You might as well come,” answered Andy. “We can take some of the moose meat. The horns are yours, Chet.”
They set off for the Graham cabin on the following morning. Barwell Dawson’s ankle was now quite well, although he was prudently careful how he used it. It had cleared off rather warm, so the trip was a pleasant one. The boys had with them all the meat they could carry, and also their guns, and wore the snow-shoes Professor Jeffer had loaned them.
On the way Chet asked Barwell Dawson how soon he expected to start for the north.