“All that whistling on the lake. Sounded to me like that little tug, Rainy Day, that tows the lumber down to the outlet. She was close by, too,” replied Bluff.
“It must have been away off, for I didn’t hear a bit of it. Perhaps it was the tug, too; but she belongs up at the other end of the lake. What could bring her down here?”
“I had an idea that perhaps the sheriff and his posse might be aboard her,” ventured Bluff, and he was instantly seized by his comrade.
“That’s just what it meant. I hope Will’s met them and told how the land lies here. If that is true it means the beginning of the end?” whispered Frank.
“And perhaps we may be back in our good old camp by night time, who knows?” answered the other, joyfully.
Still, neither of them had the slightest thought of relaxing their efforts with regard to investigating the interior of that cabin, and ascertaining whether their comrade was being detained there against his will, perhaps in bonds, that cut his flesh cruelly.
Tom had noted the fact that the others were holding a little powwow, and hence he did not push on so as to leave them. In fact, Tom was not at all particular about quitting the society of these stout-hearted fellows even for a minute, while in such a ghostly neighborhood. Tom believed in spirits, and the story Bluff had told about that skeleton was ever before him.
When they began to advance once more, he also started off.
They were now so close to the cabin that if any one had been talking aloud inside those old moss-grown walls the boys could not have failed to hear the sounds.
There had been a window, but it was closed with a bunch of dead grass, and, of course, none of the boys thought of trying to remove this obstacle in connection with their obtaining a view of the interior. The only other opening, no doubt, was the door, which was allowed to remain wide open all the time for air and light.