“But that isn’t where we’ve just come from, Phil?” observed Ethan, shrewdly.
“Far away from it, to tell the truth, and I see what you mean, Ethan. It doesn’t look as if this chap could ever have wandered away from that camp this morning, because he would have had to cover miles, which he could never have done with all the deep snow.”
“And, Phil, it must be that he’s a Baylay; but we’ll find all that out when he comes to himself again in the camp. I’m rested now, so give me a chance to spell you.”
Both of them were more pleased than they would have liked to say when they discovered the little shack they had built close to the shore of the lake; with X-Ray just starting out ax in hand to cut some wood.
Ethan gave a whoop, and Lub came running out of the shelter, all excitement.
“Bringing home the bacon, are you, fellows?” he called; “well, you do seem to be staggering under a bully old load, Ethan. Have you bothered getting the moose’s head, horns and all to camp? Might have left that hanging up till—well, what’s this I see? Great Jehosophat! this isn’t a moose’s head; it’s a child!”
X-Ray was equally astounded. They crowded around, and stared, and seemed ready to fairly burst with curiosity.
“Wait till we get him between blankets, boys, and then you’ll have the whole story,” said Phil.
Lub rushed in ahead of the others, and it was his blanket that he held up in front of the fire to “get it good and warm for the poor little chap,” he explained.
There was more color creeping into the face of the unknown child, Phil discovered. He did not believe anything serious could have come upon him, and hoped for the best.