“And here’s a pantry!” exclaimed Vi excitedly. “Look, girls, shelves and cans of things and—and—everything!”
The interior of the place was made of rough boards, rudely thrown together as if by an amateur. Why the person who had made the little cabin had not laid boards for his floor, nobody could tell. Perhaps he had run short of lumber or perhaps he preferred the hard earth floor.
As Vi had said, in one corner some boards had been nailed up to form shelves, and there were several tins of canned goods upon the shelves. Quite evidently this must be the queer owner’s pantry.
Besides this, the cot, the table, and an oddly-shaped chair, which had evidently been made from an old soap box, made the only furnishings of the place.
“I wonder,” said Billie, looking about her while a sort of awe crept into her voice, “what the person is like that lives here. He must be very queer, to say the least.”
“Oh,” cried Vi, all her old fears coming back again. “Girls, I’d almost forgotten the Codfish. Do you suppose—”
“No, we don’t,” said Laura shortly, wishing that the very mention of the Codfish would not send the cold chills all over her. “Goodness, just listen to that rain,” she added, shivering. “I guess we’re in for a night of it.”
“But we can’t stay here all night,” said Billie anxiously.
“Suppose the owner should come back,” added Vi, her teeth beginning to chatter.
“Well, he could only kill us if he did,” said Laura gloomily.