Invariably cautious, Rand decided not to go in, even though his visit might have been rewarded by a goodly supply of fresh meat.
“I hate to risk it,” he informed the boys. “No telling who lives there. I’ve no desire to advertise my presence. We’d better conquer our curiosity and our appetites and keep right on.”
They were now directly opposite the cabin. Dick and Toma turned longing eyes in its direction.
“Look! Ponies!” exclaimed Toma.
“Where?” sharply demanded Rand.
The guide pointed. Back in the heavy underbrush, near the edge of a natural clearing, were three ponies staked out in the snow. The policeman’s face instantly became serious, though for what reason Dick could not decide. From that moment, he grew more and more thoughtful. Once or twice, as Dick looked his way, he saw Rand shake his head. But in the interest of new scenes, Dick quickly forgot the incident. It was fully an hour later before it was brought again to his attention.
“Queer thing about those ponies,” Rand mused aloud. “Seldom that these trappers keep any around. It puzzles me.”
“It does seem strange,” agreed Dick. “Can’t imagine what use a trapper would have for them.”
A few miles farther on they passed a second cabin, almost identical to the first. Here too was the same phenomenon—except that at this place there were two ponies instead of three. So amazed was Rand that he stopped short and scratched his head in perplexity.
“This is a new one on me,” he scowled. “I’ve travelled thousands of miles through the North, met every type of trapper, both Indians and white men, but this is the first time I have ever witnessed this incongruity. Trappers with ponies! Dog teams—yes! But ponies never! Can you explain it, Toma?”