“Well, let’s tackle the trees, then.”
The boys made their way across the snow-covered rocks until they reached the clump of bushes Joe had pointed out, and there they searched carefully, kicking away the snow at the base of the trees, in the hope of uncovering the missing supplies.
But their efforts met with no success. They hunted through the entire grove and the only result of their search was that Chet stubbed his toe when he dealt a vicious kick at a rock hidden beneath the snow.
“We’re out of luck here,” said Frank finally. “Has any one else any good suggestions?”
“Well,” said Biff, “if I stole those supplies I’d hide them down by the shore some place, among the rocks.”
“We’ll give it a try. What’s the nearest way to the shore from the cabin?”
“Down that little path at the back.”
“Away we go, then!”
They left the clump of trees and ploughed through the snow toward the defile that led down from the rear of the cabin to the rocks along the ice-bound shore. The rocks were covered with snow, but their round masses rose irregularly against the background of the ice.
“We have a job ahead of us if we start moving all these rocks,” objected Chet, with misgivings.