Superintendent MacKensie scratched his head. “I dunno. It beats me. We’ve never had anything like this happen before. There have been hijackings on the highway, but no one’s ever had the nerve to break in here.”
“Well, no harm done,” Dr. Steele said. “And Sandy will be as good as new after a night’s sleep. I suggest we clean this mess up and turn in.”
The others agreed, and while Sandy rested on the cot they began to gather up their scattered belongings.
“I wonder if he got at the rest of the stuff we left in the station wagon,” Professor Crowell said.
“I doubt it,” Superintendent MacKensie said. “Your wagon is in the shed with our scout plane and the heavy machinery. We’ve had men working out there all evening.”
After the cabin was in order, MacKensie and his men said good night and went back to the main barracks. As they were undressing before the fire, Dr. Steele questioned Sandy casually but with painstaking thoroughness about his encounter with the intruder.
“Was he a big man?” the doctor asked. “Did you get a look at his face?”
Sandy shook his head. “It was too dark to see much of anything. All I know is that he was big, taller than me, and husky.”
“That goes for me, too,” Jerry agreed. “For all I know it could have been Tagish Charley.”
Professor Crowell dropped the boot he was holding with a loud clatter. “What did you say, boy?” he asked in a tense voice.