“Let us take a look ahead,” suggested Jack. “They might have turned on the ice for a short distance merely to destroy the trail.”
They looked on and also all about them, and even ran out on the lake for a short distance, but it was useless. The trail was lost and could not be picked up again.
At last the boys ceased their search, and gathered in a crestfallen group to discuss the situation.
“It’s the worst thing that could happen,” said Boxy. “We can’t continue to camp without our things.”
“No; unless we can get cooking utensils and blankets, we’ll have to go home.”
“It’s too dark to do more to-night,” said Jack. “Let us make ourselves as comfortable as possible and take up the search again as soon as day breaks.”
“That’s the talk!” cried Harry. “We won’t give up till we catch those rascals and recover our belongings.”
This proposition suited every one, and, thoroughly tired out from their extra tramp, they returned to the hut.
Pickles set to work with a will to build up a roaring fire, and to protect them from the cold while they slept without blankets this was placed as closely to the opening of the hut as they dared to put it.
The small kettle came in handy for heating water, and a haunch of venison was soon spitted over the fire. Despite their downcast spirits, the boys all ate heartily. When they had finished, everything was left in readiness for an early breakfast in the morning.