Believing that the camp had been robbed during his absence, and that he would be sure to suffer for it when his partner returned at night, Tom threw down the grouse he had captured and made the circuit of the lean-to, looking for the robber’s trail.
He found it after a short search, and the moment he saw it he knew that it had been made by Lish himself. He followed it up for a few hundred yards, taking care to step exactly in the wolfer’s tracks, and presently came within sight of a tree, which had been partly uprooted by the wind.
Among the branches, about twenty feet from the ground, was a small platform, built of poles, and on this platform was something covered with a blanket.
To scramble up the inclined trunk, raise the blanket, and see what was under it was scarcely two minutes’ work. The blanket was one of his own, and the objects it concealed and protected from the weather were the skins he and Lish had captured.
At the sight of them Tom uttered a low whistle; and, after looking all around to make sure that his partner was nowhere in sight, he backed down the trunk and set out for camp at a rapid walk, being careful, as before, to step squarely into the wolfer’s tracks.
Arriving at the lean-to, he replenished the fire; and, picking up one of the grouse, began plucking it, working as fast as he could in order to make up for lost time.
He knew that Lish would be sure to take him to task for something the moment he returned, and if he did not find a cup of hot coffee waiting for him, supplemented by as good a supper as Tom’s limited means would allow him to prepare, something disagreeable might happen.
“What object could Lish have had in view when he stole those skins out of the camp and hid them in that tree?” Tom asked himself over and over again. “I can’t think of any unless he intends to clear out and leave me to shift for myself. If he should do that, what in the world would become of me?”
While Tom was turning this alarming thought over in his mind he heard somebody coming toward the camp at a rapid pace, stamping furiously through the crust as if to give emphasis to some words he was muttering to himself, but which Tom could not catch.
The next moment the wolfer came round the side of the lean-to. In one hand he carried his rifle and in the other a stout switch, which he was brandishing wildly over his head. His face was fairly black with fury.