“Better stay in the car, boys, until I see if they will take us in,” suggested Mr. Campbell, as he got out. “It looks like a private house—or perhaps I’d better say shack—but maybe they’ll have room for us.”
However, Rick and Chot had already alighted from the car, believing their rain coats were protection enough. Ruddy followed them, a sad and bedraggled figure, his tail drooping between his legs.
Mr. Campbell advanced to the door and knocked, and Rick and Chot, standing where they could look in the window, saw the three men around the table where the lamp shone, start from their seats.
The boys also saw something else, for one of the men reached for a gun standing against a chair.
“Did you see that?” whispered Chot to Rick.
“Look out, Mr. Campbell,” warned Rick, not pausing to reply to his chum. “They have a gun!”
“Oh, that’s all right,” was the easy answer. “We’re getting into the west now, and when any one knocks on the door of a lonely cabin after dark the safest thing is to reach for a gun—not that you’ll have to use it, but just for safety’s sake.”
Silence followed the knock on the door—though it was not a complete silence, for there was the pelting of the rain that made a continuous low roar—and then came a hail from within the lonely cabin:
“Who’s there?”
“Strangers and travelers,” answered Mr. Campbell. “We’ve lost our way in the storm—the bridge is down just beyond here—”