"We looked, but couldn't find the first trace of anything having been stolen," he was assured. "Things seemed knocked around a bit, and the door was ajar, though we left it tightly closed, but that was all."
"It surely is a deep mystery," admitted Jerry, with a puzzled expression on his face. Jerry had never been remarkably clever at finding out hidden things, and the whiff of a mystery generally confused him.
"I'd be inclined to think it must have been some sort of animal," ventured Bluff, "only you feel certain you fastened the door, so a dog or a wildcat couldn't get inside."
"Besides," spoke up Will, "if it had been any sort of animal bent on getting something to eat, wouldn't we see signs of his nosing around in the cabin?"
"That's a fact," admitted Bluff, immediately, "there's that shank of our ham lying right on the table where we left it. I said we'd boil the same the first chance we got, so as to get the pickings. Any dog would have pulled that on to the floor and gnawed at it."
"Oh, well, what's the use guessing when we haven't got a single clue to go on?" remarked Jerry. "Let's change the subject and talk of something pleasant."
"One thing I know," said Will, with a happy smile.
"Then tell us, won't you?" asked Bluff.
"I'm going to set my little trap again to-night for Br'er 'Coon," continued the enthusiastic amateur photographer.
"Huh! wonder what you'll spot next time?" observed Bluff. "You nailed an old fellow that you tell us is Aaron Dennison himself. I hope the next crack won't give us a picture of the Old Nick himself, horns, split hoofs, forked tail and all! Ugh!"