“They are gone!” burst out Harry.
“They were afraid we would kick up a row over the attempt to steal our stores,” said Joe.
“It was mean of them to let the snow come in through the door and the window,” was old Runnell’s comment. “But neither of them know the meaning of fairness.”
Going inside the lodge they saw that all was in confusion and very dirty. Skeetles and Marcy had had an early breakfast, and had left the bones and other scraps lying where they dropped. The fire had been put out with snow and the smoke hung thick under the roof.
“It will take us the best part of a day to straighten out things again,” said Joe. “But never mind, I am glad they are gone. I hope they don’t come back.”
“They’ll have a rough journey to Lakeport or to Brookfield,” said Joel Runnell.
“Do you suppose they’ll walk the whole distance?”
“It isn’t likely. They probably came as far as Paley’s farm on horseback.”
By noon time they had shifted their traps and stores once more, and cut some additional firewood. The sleeping-room of the lodge was also cleaned out, and fresh boughs placed in the bunks, and directly after dinner they cleaned up the living-room, until it looked almost as tidy as a room at home.
“My daughter Cora ought to see this,” said old Runnell. “It would please her. She thinks a hunters’ camp is the dirtiest place on earth.”