Paul, Tolly Tip and the others of the scouting party soon reached the rear of the shack. They could easily see where the two tramps had actually worked to close up most of the chinks between the logs, to keep the bitter cold air and the driving snow out of their refuge.
Men of their sort would never think of staying for a week or two amidst such barren surroundings so long as there remained a warm county jail 236 ready to accommodate them with free lodging—that is, unless they had a good reason for wanting to avoid civilization.
Paul, believing that they had set that fire and robbed Mr. Briggs’ safe, could understand just why they remained here in seclusion. They doubtless feared suspicion may have been pointed in their direction, and that something of a search was being indulged in looking to their ultimate capture.
As soon as they arrived close to the walls of the shack the boys searched for some crevice through which they might gain a view of the interior.
Several managed to dig peep-holes by detaching the frozen mud that the tramps had plastered over open chinks. They applied their eyes to such crevices, and first of all discovered a blazing fire. Then a movement on one side drew their attention to the taller vagrant sitting quietly smoking his black pipe as though quite contented with his lot of idleness, so long as his wants were fairly well supplied.
It happened that the wind had gone down, and there brooded over the snowy forest a deep silence. This fact allowed the listeners without to catch the sound of voices inside the hut, for one of the tramps talked heavily, and the other had a 237 high-pitched voice that carried like a squeaking fife.
What they were saying just then instantly riveted the attention of the listeners, for as though by some strange freak it had an intimate connection with the object of the scouts’ coming to the spot.
The shorter man seemed to have been doing some work on his injured hand, for he was now carefully wrapping a fresh rag around it. At the same time he was grumbling because of the pain his injury gave him.
“I never knowed how bad a burn was till now, Billy,” was the burden of his complaint. “I’ve been shot and hurted in every other way, but this here’s the fust time I ever got licked by fire. It’s a-goin’ to be the last time too, if I knows it.”
“Any fool had ought to know better’n to play with fire,” the other told him between his teeth as he sucked at his pipe. “I reckons that ye’d been wuss hurt nor that if I hadn’t slapped a pail o’ water over ye, and put ye out. Gotter stand fur it, Shorty, till the new skin comes along. A burn is wuss nor a cut any day.”