In the meanwhile Snadder and Blinky, proceeding along the shores of the lake, angry at having been put out of such an easy home, wondered where they could find another of like kind, if at all.
“I’ll get even with them kids,” muttered Snadder, leading the way along the trail.
“Maybe we will and maybe we won’t. There are four of them boys and they’ve got guns, and they don’t look like they would run from any one,” remarked Blinky.
Turning past a clump of trees, the men reached a small hill, around which the trail led, and then climbed between two more eminences which seemed to butt right to the lake. Reaching the top of these two, they saw ahead of them a log cabin—perhaps half a mile distant.
“Ain’t no smoke coming out—guess it’s empty,” said Snadder, pointing to it.
“And the door locked and the key thrown away,” whined Blinky.
“Yeh, that’s the way with you. Honestly, Blinky, a man oughtn’t to travel around with you. You’re always finding the dark clouds to look at.”
As they neared the log cabin they were surprised to notice that two sticks of wood, not covered with snow, were lying in front of the place. This indicated to Snadder’s mind, and it cannot be said that tramping had not improved his training in deduction, that some one was either in the cabin or had been there this very morning, inasmuch as the snow had stopped during the night.
All of this he remarked to Blinky, his teammate.
They arrived at the cabin, walking up to it as if they belonged there, knocked on the door, received no response, and pushed their way in.