After making a long circuit, the winding stream was again reached, and, at length, the cabin in the valley came into view.
"Reckon you air powerful glad ter git back, cap'n?" observed the trapper. "I'll fix the skin of that there critter, an'—"
Yardsley suddenly paused, and gazed intently toward the cabin, while a puzzled, alarmed expression passed over his rugged features.
"I'm sartin sure—" he began.
"Sure of what?" asked Bob, surprised at his companion's manner.
"That I shut the door of that storehouse. Sure as guns is guns, I did, an'—"
Yardsley did not finish the sentence, but fairly tore over the snow, while Bob, leaving the sled, followed close at his heels.
At one end of the log house a small addition had been built for the purpose of storing furs and skins. There was an entrance on the outside, and it was this which now stood slightly open.
"As sure as guns is guns," repeated the woodsman, excitedly, "I shut that 'ere door, an' shut it tight."
He hastily entered the storehouse, and at a glance his worst fears were realized.