Suddenly the door was flung open, and in the glare of the lamp the three men in the cabin gazed out into the rain-swept darkness. One of them held a gun in readiness, but when the gleam of the light fell on the forms of Rick, Ruddy and Chot, as well as on the friendly though wet and dripping face of Mr. Campbell, the weapon was laid aside.
“What’s that you say, stranger?” asked the foremost man. “Is the bridge over Rocky Gulch gone?”
“It’s down, yes, and but for the howling of our dog we might have gone down with it. There was a red light, but it was out, and we didn’t have any warning. Then we turned back in the storm, but we must have lost our way for I don’t remember to have passed this place before.”
“Very likely you didn’t,” was the comment. “It’s off the main road. But come in stranger, and bring the boys and dog with you. It’s no night for even a dog to be out in.”
It was a warm enough welcome coming from strangers, and the boys were very glad to enter the shack, Ruddy following his master.
“Is there any place around here where I can leave my car?” asked Mr. Campbell.
“Shed around back,” gruffly answered one of the men.
“And, if it isn’t asking too much, could we stay here for the night?” was the next request of Mr. Campbell. “We can stretch out on the floor, or sit around the fire, for that matter.”
“I guess we can put you up,” was the somewhat gruff answer from the man who had done most of the talking. “We’ve got some bunks—this is a hunter’s cabin, and—”
“But we’re not hunting now,” came the quick retort of another of the trio. “We know the game laws!”