The old hunting lodge where the two boys had sought shelter was a rambling affair, consisting of a square building built of logs, and half a dozen wings, running to the rear and to one side. There were also two piazzas, and a shed, where wood had been kept for winter use.
“In another year or two this old lodge will fall down,” remarked Ned, as he gazed around him.
“It must have been a nice place in its day,” returned Joe. “What a pity to let it run down in this fashion.”
“The rain is coming around on this side now, Joe; let us shift to the other.”
The hermit's boy was willing, and watching their chance, between the downpours, they ran around to another portion of the old lodge.
“It certainly is a little better here,” observed Joe, as he dashed the water from his cap.
A minute later the rumbling of the thunder ceased for the time being, and they heard a murmur of voices coming from one of the rooms of the lodge.
“Why, somebody must be here!” ejaculated Ned. “Who can it be?”
“Two men, by their voices,” answered the hermit's boy. “Wait till I take a look at them?”
“Why not go in?” questioned the rich youth, carelessly.