Knives, forks and spoons gone, hanging lamps gone, several of their most useful cooking utensils gone, their fishing tackle gone, the stock of ammunition gone, every can and package of food gone! Completely ransacked!
Frank yanked open the heavy front door and peered outside. There, plainly visible, though covered a little by the snow, were tracks in the white blanket that carpeted the earth to show that several men had come in by this way and had left by this way!
The boys stood looking at the trail of footprints out to the main trail along the lake.
“They came in here just at the end of that snowstorm—which means some time early this morning,” said Frank, decisively.
“Leaving not a thing to eat nor eat it with!” Lanky Wallace roamed back to look at the scene of devastation.
“It’s the work of that fellow Jeek!” explosively said Frank Allen, shutting the front door, walking back to the others.
The boys stood and discussed the situation in its every detail, trying first to ascertain what they should do.
“Well,” remarked Lanky after the talk had run on for a while, “we’ve got venison outside—better cut it up right away and take care of it. We can cook it over the fire in here, and if we are without knives and forks, we yet have our hands with good fingers on them.”
“Yes,” said Buster as he came around from another search over the shelves, “they left us some salt and pepper, I notice, and they also left us that big fork over there on the hook. They didn’t take the dishes, so we can eat venison before we have to start home.”
“We’re not going to start home!” Frank spoke up very sharply. “We’re going to find these fellows. They can’t come in and rob a place without having some trouble about it!”