“Whew! it does take you to see through things,” Bluff declared, with a laugh. “I can understand now that it was a big streak of luck for Ted when he met with that bear trap. We never know when we’re well off, do we? But show me what you were telling about this mink, Frank; and how the old chap visits around in and out of these holes in the bank during the winter and early spring.”
Frank was always accommodating, especially when anything connected with his knowledge of nature was concerned. He loved to watch the small woods folk when they did not suspect his presence, and learn more and more of their interesting habits.
So that day passed. Another, and yet a third found the boys enjoying themselves to the limit. Teddy was showing decided signs of improvement. He could get around fairly well by now, Jerry having cut him a walking-stick, with a crook at the end. He was beginning to get over the nervousness that had shown itself for a whole day following his advent in the new camp.
Perhaps the boy had feared that Nackerson might come storming along, and insist on his returning to his duties as cook. He feared the brutal sportsman more than ever, now that he had found such a fine harbor of refuge with the outdoor chums. To go back to that other drudgery would have been torture.
As soon as he was able to get around he insisted on taking charge of the cooking. And the boys soon learned that Teddy could manage splendidly. He had to be shown very little so as to suit their tastes; and none of them regretted in the least that they had extended a helping hand toward one in distress.
A new life was opening up to Teddy. He had never before come in contact with such an agreeable lot of companions and every hour of the day he tried to prove himself grateful.
Still, he did not mention a word about what he might possibly know of the dastardly deed, when some one attempted to fire the logging camp. Frank often saw a worried expression come over the boy’s face, and at such times he suspected that Teddy was puzzling his brain as to just what his duty might be. He did not like to betray his kinsman, and yet felt that it was not right to refrain from taking someone into his confidence.
“He may speak sooner or later,” Frank told himself; “and if he does, it will not be the reward of a hundred dollars for information that will make him tell.”
On the second day, about noon, some of the boys were busy near the cabin, laying in an extra supply of firewood. Frank had an idea they would be visited by a big snowfall before twenty-four hours had passed.
“Of course that’s only a hazard, fellows,” he told Bluff and Jerry, who were helping him add to the handy heap close to the door of the cabin, “but there does seem to be a feeling of dampness in the air, for all it’s so cold; and the sun, you notice, shines through a sort of hazy curtain.”