CHAPTER XXII
The Letter
“Just like a clam, that fellow Hanleigh!” exclaimed Biff Hooper.
“He sure doesn’t want to talk,” Frank Hardy agreed. “I thought we could scare him, but I guess there’s nothing doing.”
“He didn’t come back here to make friends with us. He was making another try at that notebook, that’s what he was doing. It must be mighty important to him.” Joe was eyeing the coat Hanleigh had folded so carefully and put under his head. “Wonder why he wouldn’t take a pillow. He wasn’t taking any chances on letting that coat get away from him.”
The boys looked at one another significantly.
“Perhaps he has some important papers in the pocket,” whispered Chet.
“Fine chance we have of getting at them.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Frank. “Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Let him sleep a little longer and we’ll see if we can’t get at them.”
The storm raged fiercely outside the cabin. The blizzard had grown in fury. The trees, bowed before the bitter wind. The boys idled about, waiting for the moment when they could attempt to secure the coat from beneath the head of their sleeping enemy.
At last Frank nodded.