“There; that will give us a taste of something else besides deer meat,” he said, with some satisfaction, as he hung the game over his shoulder.
When the lake was reached, they halted as they had the night before, and gazed around in hopes of seeing something which might have escaped them in the semi-darkness.
But not a clew came to view in the vicinity. All around was the glittering ice, that was all.
“Let us divide up into two parties,” said Harry. “One party to go along the lake, and the other to go part of the way across, keeping an eye on the various drifts on the ice. The trail is bound to turn up somewhere before long.”
“Supposing we get separated?” asked Boxy.
“Fire a gun if you want to find the others, and fire twice if the trail is found,” suggested Jack, and so it was settled.
Boxy, Andy and Pickles started off across the ice, while Jack and Harry continued along the lake.
“It’s my opinion they came this way,” observed Jack. “It’s a long journey across the ice on foot.”
“That’s just my opinion, too, Jack. Besides, if they were going to cross the lake they would have done it from the mouth of the creek, instead of picking a way through the snow and brush so far.”
“I’ve been wondering if that ghost, as Boxy calls it, had anything to do with this,” went on Jack, slowly.