The light shone from a single window in the end of a long, low house that stood some fifty feet away. The intervening space contained several small sheds, and was strewn with felled trees, many of which had been denuded of bark and branches. From the house came gruff voices and an occasional peal of boisterous laughter.
“We’ve stumbled on a logging camp,” exclaimed Jerry. “That thieving rascal must be inside.”
“He may be one of them,” suggested Hamp. “What are we going to do about it?”
“First of all, we’ll take a peep,” replied Jerry. “I don’t believe the thief belongs here. If he does, we’ll get square treatment, though. Loggers are mostly honest fellows, if they are a bit rough. Come on.”
CHAPTER XVII.
FOUND AND LOST.
The boys went cautiously forward among the obstructing trees, and soon reached the end of the loggers’ house. There was probably a hot fire inside, for the window was raised several inches to admit fresh air. The sill was not high from the ground, and the boys ventured to peep in.
They saw banks on two sides of the room. At the far end was a red-hot stove. At the end nearest the window was a long table. Around this sat half a score of burly, rough-looking men. All were smoking pipes but one.