Next morning, the snowstorm having abated, the boys went outside in a futile search for footprints. The snow had obliterated any tracks the thief might have made in the immediate vicinity of the cabin, but down by the boathouse, on the side sheltered from the wind, they found several footprints. Frank took measurements of them.
“Might come in useful some day,” he commented. “I should say they were made by a fairly big man.”
“How about food?” asked Chet, who had gone without breakfast.
“Right away. Joe and I will take our ice-boat and go down to the village. You and Biff had better stay here.”
“Can’t I go with you? Perhaps I could get something to eat at the village, and I wouldn’t have to wait so long.”
“You’ll eat with the rest of us,” laughed Frank.
“Why do you want Biff and me to stay?”
“I’m thinking the thief may not have taken those supplies away with him. If Hanleigh did it, his purpose would be served by merely hiding the food. You and Biff can spend your time hunting around the island. You may find where the grub has been hidden.”
Chet’s face lighted up at this probability.
“Come on, Biff!”