“It looks to me as if there might have been a struggle,” came from Andy. “See how the snow is dug and scattered about.”
“It does look as if something had been going on,” answered the captain. “See, the footprints lead along this path and into the forest.”
“Here are the tracks of the horse and cutter!” shouted Dale, who had wandered down the road. “They go into the woods, too. Do you know what I think? I think those men either killed Mr. Strong, or made him a prisoner, and then they carried him off!”
“Let us follow the tracks of the cutter,” said Jack, and this was done; the blacksmith accompanying them.
“It’s a nasty business,” said the blacksmith. “If those odd-lookin’ men killed your teacher they ought to be hung fer it!”
The tracks of the horse and cutter led into the forest, and then along a cliff overlooking a stream now thickly covered with ice and snow.
“I see a little shanty!” cried Andy.
“Where?”
“Over yonder at the edge of that next cliff.”
“Smoke is coming from the chimney,” said Dale, an instant later. “That shows somebody must be in the place.”