The night passed without alarm. In the morning the cold was more intense than ever, and the sky was still overcast with sullen-looking clouds.
During the forenoon the boys put a few extra touches to the cabin, and gathered enough fuel to last for several days. After dinner Brick and Hamp chopped holes through the ice, and caught a number of fat pickerel. Jerry took his gun, and trudged into the woods. He returned with a brace of spruce partridges.
Toward evening the wind shifted to the east, and it grew even colder. The boys put an extra layer of boughs on the cabin floor, and got all their blankets out. The only comfortable part was around the fire.
Just before supper a bird flew out of the forest and over the camp. It alighted in some bushes near the verge of the jutting headland. Jerry snatched his gun, and hurried after it across the ice.
When he reached the spot he saw something that drove the bird entirely from his mind. Nearly a mile down the lake two black specks were visible. They were moving slowly toward the western shore.
Jerry summoned his companions by a cautious shout.
“Bring your field-glasses, Brick,” he added.
When the boys arrived, Jerry pointed out the far-away objects. Brick had the glasses—a long-range pair purchased at Bangor. Each took a turn at them.
“Hullo, those things are only men,” said Brick, in a tone of relief. “I was afraid they were wild animals.”
“They are odd-looking chaps for this neighborhood,” replied Jerry. “They ain’t dressed like trappers or hunters. They have guns, though, and there’s a hand-sled trailing behind them.”