Frank took the lead and advanced up the slope. The others followed. When Frank reached the evergreens he paused and looked about. To his right he could see another bay farther down the shore, and there he spied a small boathouse.
The boathouse itself would not have attracted his attention so greatly had it not been for the fact that he saw a distinct line of footprints in the snow leading toward the rear door. Frank had his wits about him sufficiently to notice that the footprints were those of two people and that they led toward the boathouse—not away from it.
“Somebody there now,” he commented briefly.
He led the way toward the boathouse. The others trudged silently after him.
Near the little building, Frank suddenly stopped and raised his finger to his lips. He had heard voices. With renewed caution, the boys stole forward. In the lee of the boathouse, they halted. Frank listened. He had heard the murmur of voices from some distance back. He pressed close to the boards.
“Well,” he heard a voice saying, “it’s none of my business, so I’m not going to worry about it.”
Then there was a second voice.
“I’m not worrying. I’m just wondering.”
“We have our money. That’s all that should concern us.”
“Nothing wrong in wondering what he’s up to, is there?” said the other. “I think there must be something important around that old cabin.”