"I don't know of any boat," answered Joe.
Neither did any of the other boys, and it was decided to skirt the shore of the island for some distance on the lookout for a craft of any kind. But the search proved unsuccessful, and at last Joe called a halt.
"It's beginning to rain!" cried Fred. "We've got to get to some sort of a shelter, or we'll get soaked."
"Let us see if our shelter from last winter is still standing," said Harry. "I don't mean Snow Lodge, but the shelter by the cliff."
"Two Tree Lodge," said Fred. "I don't see why it shouldn't be standing, and it will make a good shelter from this storm."
Joe, Harry and Fred knew the way well and the others followed in their footsteps. They had to climb over some rough rocks and then jump a small brook. Just as they came in sight of the shelter the rain began to come down heavily.
"Hurrah! the shelter is O.K.," came from Fred. "Come on in, fellows, out of the wet."
The shelter, as my old readers know, was composed of two heavy trees which leaned up against a cliff twenty to twenty-five feet in height. The under limbs of the trees had been chopped off and piled on top, and large quantities of brushwood had been added. During the winter snow had been heaped over the brushwood, but now this was of course gone.
"Hullo, somebody has had a campfire in here!" cried Joe, as he entered. "See, the ashes are still hot!"
"Yes, and here are several cans and cups," added Fred. "Somebody has surely been living here. Wonder if it was Dan Marcy?"