"He got leave of absence yesterday," answered Owen. "He was to be back by next Tuesday. I heard him speaking to Mr. Paxton about it."
"I'm going to carry my shot-gun," went on Dale, as they moved forward once again in the direction of the lodge.
On the opposite side of the building was a mass of shrubbery growing close to several windows. Although there were no leaves on the bushes, the branches were numerous and afforded a fairly good place of concealment.
"There is an open window," whispered Owen. "We can hear something from under that."
They crawled to the spot he indicated, and listened intently. Two men were in the room beyond—Ducrot and the stranger, a good-for-nothing hunter and trapper named Link Axton, who had been under arrest more than once for killing game out of season.
"The caretaker is taken care of," Link Axton was saying. "He won't be back here for two days," and he gave a self-satisfied chuckle.
"We take de t'ings away to-morrow mornin' at seex o'clock," came from Baptiste Ducrot. "I haf de boat waitin' at de river an' you geet de wagon. Den we make de big money." And he rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
"You're a good one, Bap!" laughed Link Axton. "And the folks over to the camp think you are as honest as the day is long, too!" He uttered another chuckle. "Are you going back after this little job is over?"
"I go back to geet my money," answered the French-Canadian. "Den I tell Paxton I have de udder job, ha! ha!"
"And we'll have a good time over to Sandybay," went on Link Axton. "Is that where you sold that hoss of Larson's?"