How much heat it seemed to take that night to warm that frigid air! They piled in the great logs until the fireplace was full, and still they had to sit close to keep warm. Slowly the cold was driven out, and the cabin became more comfortable. Willis took the water bucket and an ax and went out to the stream for water, but the ice was a foot thick and the water so cold that it froze in the bucket before he got it back to the cabin. As he set the bucket on the shelf, he noticed that the mirror which hung above the bucket was broken into a thousand pieces. No doubt a bullet had come in through the chinking. Was this a declaration of war? Or had some rowdy just been showing off? They examined things carefully, but found nothing missing but the chips, not even food. Ham could not imagine why the kindling had been removed from the hearth, for he was positive that no fire had been built in either the stove or the fireplace since they had last been there.
After they had warmed sufficiently, they began to think of supper. Ham selected a can of clam soup from the shelf and opened it, but it was frozen solid. He set it by the fire to thaw out and made a second selection. This time he chose a can of beans, but found them in the same condition. He looked in the bread box—the rye-bread was as hard as a bullet. They pulled the table close up before the fire and made out a supper, the best thing on the menu being a pot of boiling-hot tea.
After supper they pulled down the blankets and carefully warmed them before the fire. Then the two boys sat and planned concerning the coming camp until they grew sleepy. After a great pine knot had been placed for the night log, the boys slipped into bed between at least a dozen blankets.
Just before going to bed, Willis prepared a few choice slivers so that a fire could be quickly started in the morning, and he left them in a little pile on the hearth. In the night he heard strange noises down on the floor, but, because it was so cold, he did not venture out to investigate, and in the morning every chip was gone. The mystery of the chips grew deeper.
They lay in bed late next morning, for the cabin was cold and dark and they were so comfortable. Time was nothing to them that day. As they lay, chatting, Ham suddenly squeezed Willis's arm, then raised on his elbow to listen. He heard voices, and they were coming up the canyon. He crawled to where he could peep out of the window, but all he could see were the feet of two men and a dog. The cabin was very cold, so he slipped back between the blankets to warm and talk it over with Willis. About nine o'clock they got up, still wondering what could have brought men into that canyon on such a morning.
Surely there was no hunting, and why should men from the claim in the other gulch be coming up through Buffalo Park? The boys were bothered. They were just sitting down to a breakfast of steaming-hot cakes when from somewhere up in the timber came the clear sound of some one hammering on metal, heavy blow after blow. Ham paused, listened attentively, a forkful of hot cake raised half-way to his mouth. The sound came very clearly and at regular intervals.
"Sounds like some one pounding a stone drill; perhaps they are going to do some blasting!"
Willis rose from his seat, threw open the door, and looked up the snowy hillside. He was right—the sound came from the direction of his father's mine.
"What on earth would any one be blasting up there for?" he said, half to himself. He was thinking of what Ben had told him the last time he was at the Roost. Ham had also risen from the table and stood looking out over Willis's shoulder. The bark of a dog came floating down the canyon.
Suddenly there was a sharp rattle in the corner of the cabin, followed by a heavy thud. Ham turned quickly, just in time to see the ax fall to the floor from its place in the corner. Willis felt a long, cold shiver creep up his back. The ax had been laid on top of the little stove in the corner, and something had caused it to fall.