“Yes—hark!” said the lad, holding up a finger.
Sure enough, above the moaning of the storm and the roar of the rain came a sound like a faint groaning.
“Well, come on,” cried Bart; “no use stopping out here in the rain just for that. Let’s go in.”
Reassured by his confident manner, the others crowded in. The interior of the hut, not overlight at any time, was rendered doubly gloomy by the mantle of blackness which the storm had flung over the heavens. It was not till Frank had taken out a folding lantern from his pocket and lit it with a lucifer from his folding match box that they were able to take in the details of the strange interior in which they stood. Of course, their first task was to look for the human being or animal that Billy had heard groaning.
This did not take long. The hut was not divided into rooms, and was unceiled, the rafters being right overhead. The lamp was flashed into every corner.
To the boys’ amazement, the place was absolutely empty.
“I’m sure I heard somebody groaning or grumbling,” said Billy. “I’m positive of it.”
“Well, maybe you are right, lad,” replied Bart Witherbee, “and I rather think you are, for look here!”
He pointed to a rough sort of bunk formed of a framework of lumber in one corner of the room.
“It’s warm,” he said, touching it with his hand, “somebody was lying asleep here when we came up the trail—that’s as plain as print—and look here, too,” he went on, pointing to other signs of human occupancy the boys had not noticed when first they came in.