“You were snoozing your head off,” was his chum’s accusation. “That’s when this happened.”
He suddenly became silent, however. He bent over and examined the disturbed ground underneath the spot where the lost meat had hung. Then he glanced keenly all about.
“Hold on, Dig,” he said softly, waving his chum back. “Don’t step in any nearer.”
“What’s the matter?” queried his surprised friend. “See a wolf print that you know? An old friend, for instance?”
“Wait,” begged Chet again. “I see something besides wolf-paw prints.”
“What, for goodness’ sake?” demanded the other, startled.
“The print of boots—men’s boots.”
“Get out!”
“I tell you at least one man has been here.”
“Pshaw! our own footprints! You gave me a scare, Chet.”