“Lost cabin,” answered Stacy promptly.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t. I just guessed it. Hungry?”
“Famished,” answered J. Elfreda.
“Some more canned stuff under the floor of the shack,” he informed her, waving a hand towards the cabin, and picking up the spilled beans one by one, placing each individual bean carefully in his mouth.
“First tell me how you got here?” demanded Miss Briggs.
“Came down on a Roaring River Liner—other words, a log. Where’s the party?”
“Trying to put out the fire at Silver Creek. Shall we try to find our way back?”
“What! With all that food cached in the shack?” demanded Stacy almost indignantly. “So long as the food holds out and no fire comes along, I stay right here. I know a good thing when I find it. After I get enough to keep my strength up I am going down to the river and catch some fish. Then we will have a real spread.”
“Hopeless!” exclaimed Elfreda. “I am glad to see you, though. I think you are right about remaining here for the day. When the fire is under control our folks will search for us, and Mr. White will pick up our trail.”