"Those jokers must be home, then," remarked Nat. "When we come back, let's drop over and ask 'em about those snowballs—just for fun."
"Sure we will," agreed Hackett; "and about those marks on the snow, too."
In order to escape the icy blasts out in the middle of the lake the boys followed the numerous bays and indentations along the shore. In a few minutes they rounded a point and came in sight of a camp. It was built against the base of a steep hill which was practically bare of trees.
Before a great fire Tim Sladder, Billy Musgrove and Bowser were sitting, the two former with their faces turned toward the lake.
"Hi, hi!" yelled Billy Musgrove, wildly waving his arms.
The skaters swung in to the shore, and walked over the crust of snow to the fire.
"Glad to see you," greeted Tim Sladder, heartily. "Lie down, Bowser! He's all right, fellers, don't be afraid. Have to be a little careful with him at first, that's all. What do you think of our camp—slick, eh?"
"Bully!" responded Sam Randall. His eyes had taken in a hut of substantial dimensions, built on the same principle as their own.
All crowded around the cheerful fire, Tom Clifton keeping on the opposite side from the redoubtable Bowser.
But the big dog seemed to be in a very friendly humor. He ambled lazily from one to the other, looking up into their faces with a peculiarly mild and benign expression.