"I was hoping Mr. Stevenson would get up here before we left," said Jack. "I want to see how he and old Uncle Barney get along."
"Maybe he's staying away on purpose, so that he'll have a chance to see the old man alone," suggested Randy.
The middle of the afternoon found the four young hunters near the end of the frozen-up watercourse, at a point where it ran in summer over some rough rocks into the lake below. Here the ground was very irregular, and once Fred slipped into a hollow, giving his left ankle a bad twist.
"Ouch!" he cried, and made a wry face.
"Much hurt?" asked the others quickly.
"I—I don't think so," answered the youngest Rover slowly. He pulled himself up and took a step or two. "I guess it is all right; but it was a nasty tumble, just the same."
"We've got to be careful. It won't do for any of us to sprain an ankle or break a leg," cautioned Jack.
They had gone only a short distance further when Randy suddenly put up his hand.
"I saw something flit through the snow near yonder rocks," he whispered, pointing.
"I see it!" ejaculated Jack, and with these words he took hasty aim, and fired. Then his cousins saw another movement in the snow, between some nearby rocks, and they, too, discharged their weapons.