“Just about over yonder, Joe. Of course, I can’t tell the exact location, but it wasn’t over fifty yards from that point.”
The young hunters all moved down to the lake front and tramped up and down, over the rocks and among the snow-laden bushes. Here and there they shoved some of the snow aside, but brought nothing of interest to light.
“I guess it’s a wild-goose chase, looking for that pocketbook or those papers,” said Harry at length.
“It’s a good deal like looking for a pin in a haystack,” returned Fred.
“We’ll stand more chance of finding something after the snow clears away,” put in Joe, with a sigh. “That is, if it is really here.”
“And if it is here the melting snow may carry it out into the lake,” said his brother.
They took another look around, Joel Runnell prying up some old brushwood and dead tree limbs, and by that time the descending sun warned them that if they wished to return to Snow Lodge before nightfall they had better start without delay.
“Yes, let’s get back,” said Harry, who was tired out. “And then we can have a bit of roast rabbit for a change.”
“And I’m going to make some biscuits for supper,” put in Joe. “We haven’t had fresh biscuits since we were at the lodge before.”
Somewhat downhearted over their failure to locate the missing pocketbook or papers, they turned toward home. All had known it was rather a forlorn hope at the best, yet each had secretly hoped that something would be brought to light.