CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dick looked at his companion a little bewildered.
"Why, you must know as well as I do," he said, "somebody stepped on top of that log with snow-shoes, and it's snowed since."
"Yes, but who?" insisted Sam.
"The trapper in this district, of course."
"Sure; and let me tell you this,—that trapper is the man we're after. That's his trail."
"How do you know?"
"I'm sure. I've got a hunch."
Dick looked sceptical, then impressed. After all, you never could tell what a man might not learn out in the Silent Places, and the old woodsman had grown gray among woods secrets.
"We'll follow the trail and find his camp," pursued Sam.