“S-S—H!”
Bob, who was a few feet in advance of his brother, held up his hand as a signal for him to stop. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and they had been pushing their way through the thick forest for several hours. It had been hard traveling as the underbrush was dense and several times it had taken them a half hour or more before they could locate the stones which marked the boundary line between the United States and Canada.
“What’s the matter?” Jack whispered as he advanced cautiously to meet his brother.
“There’s a small cabin about three rods ahead of us and I think someone is in it. Listen.”
The sound of a man’s voice came to them but he was speaking French and speaking it so rapidly that, although they strained their ears for some moments, they were unable to catch more than a word now and then.
“I think there’s three of them there,” Jack whispered as he crept forward a few feet to where he could catch a glimpse of the cabin.
He stole softly back a few minutes later and Bob knew, from the look on his face, that he was very much excited.
“That cabin is exactly like the one I saw up at Moosehead,” he whispered as soon as he was beside Bob. “And what’s more one of the men is the fellow who was in that other cabin. I mean the man who spoke to me while I was fishing. He came to the door while I was watching and looked around.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”