The hut in question was a dilapidated structure of only one story that stood in a little hollow just off the road. It was in the last stages of decay and looked as though a strong wind would blow it to pieces. There were no fences nor barn nor any wagon or farm implement in sight.
Yet that some one lived in the crazy shack was evident, as Bobby had said, by the red light that came flickeringly through the only window that the cabin possessed.
“Let’s stop there for a minute and get warm,” suggested Fred. “Then, too, we can make sure that we’re still on the right road to the station.”
“What’s the use?” cautioned Bobby. “We got left once to-day by stopping too long.”
“It will only take a minute,” urged Fred.
As the others also wanted to stop, and Bobby did not wish to insist too much, they all went down into the hollow together.
The snow of course deadened their footsteps, so that whoever was in the cabin had no notice of their approach.
Fred, who was in advance, rapped on the door.
There was silence for a moment and then the door swung open and a rough looking man appeared on the sill.
“What do you want?” he asked gruffly.