"Here comes Sladder, Musgrove and the mighty Bowser," laughed Bob, when supper was finished next evening.
"There's a light in the cabin, so we might as well get ready," added Sam Randall, rising to his feet.
The Stony Creek hunters soon drew up alongside the blazing fire.
"Evenin'! You fellers goin' over now? Piker's gang is there," said Musgrove. "A bully night, too, fur skatin'," he added.
The full moon gleamed brightly from a cloudless sky, sending the shadows of the dark trees in a delicate tracery over the foreground. The huts were edged with light, while beyond stretched a pale, ghostly expanse of snow, broken here and there by dark patches of trees and underbrush. Overhead, a few bright stars sparkled upon the field of blue.
"Big crowd of us, isn't there?" said Tom Clifton, with a glance over his shoulder, as all started for the lake.
"Sure," replied Sladder; "with Bowser, it makes ten. Guess there won't be much room in that there cabin when all of us gits inside."
"Race, Wackett?" grinned Musgrove, as the crisp whirr of the steel rang out.
"Do you think I want to break my neck? A fellow might run across an air hole or thin spot somewhere. Daytime for me. And say, Mushroom"—Hackett's voice betrayed a trace of impatience—"you won't talk so much about racing after the next time."
"Huh—what's the reason I won't?"
"You'll find out. I'll have the Stony Creek championship dangling from my belt before long, eh, Nat?" and Hackett playfully poked his chum in the ribs.
The starlike point of light in the cabin grew larger and brighter, and finally the log structure could be faintly seen against the side of the hill.
"Hello—hi, hi!" yelled Hackett, and the chorus of shouts which followed soon brought a response.
The door was opened, sending a stream of light out upon the snow. Dark forms crowded the entrance, and Piper's voice was heard, inviting them to come in.
The snow-drifts along the shore and around the cabin were particularly heavy, but the boys quickly floundered through them.
"I'm glad to see you," said Piper, heartily, as the group approached. "Been wondering how you fared in the storm. Hello—you here?"
His eye had rested on the forms of Tim Sladder and Billy Musgrove, who stood in the full glare of light.
At this remark, the latter's face assumed its most impudent expression. He folded his arms and surveyed the speaker an instant before replying, "Certainly—an' why not?"
"Oh, well—didn't expect you—that's all."
Piper's voice grew sarcastic, his manner became frigid, while Robson, standing just inside, gave a short laugh. "Anyway, we don't want that Bowser in here," went on Piper. "A hundred pounds of dog would take up too much room."
"An' I suppose me an' me pal, Tim, ain't good 'nough ter come in, neither—eh?" growled Musgrove, compressing his lips.
"No use getting riled. Move lively, fellows—don't want to let in too much cold air."
For an instant the Stony Creek boys held back. Then Sladder whispered in his chum's ear, and the two slowly walked inside. Bowser, left out in the cold, set up a mournful howl and began scratching at the door.
"Sit on anything you can find, fellows," said Piper, with a pleasant smile. "It seems to me," he added, "that we ought to build an addition to this shack. What's the matter with that brute?"
"Don't you think a dog feels the cold jest like humans, Swiper?" interposed Musgrove.
"Seems to me it's more of a great big calf than a canine," laughed Piper. "Pretty heavy storm we had, eh? It was a job clearing away some of the snow-drifts. Seems to me I never worked so hard in my life. How did you fellows make out?"
"Well, Piper," replied Nat Wingate, sitting in an indolent fashion near the stove, "there was excitement on our side of the lake, and plenty of it, too."
"Bob Somers and Hackett had an awful time," ventured Tom Clifton. "Almost got chewed up by wolves."
"By wolves?" echoed Heydon, in surprise.
"Yes! We certainly had the fight of our lives—and no mistake," answered Hackett. "You see, Piper, it was this way—"
A particularly loud whine from the disconsolate Bowser interrupted him.
"We'll have to let the poor brute in," remarked Rex Heydon. "If we don't, the meeting will be disturbed too much."
"Seems to me," put in Piper, reflectively, "that I wouldn't own a dog like that."
"Don't say nothin' agin Bowser," protested Tim Sladder, warmly. He opened the door to admit the animal, which bounded in with a great demonstration of joy.
"Now spin your yarn," said Piper.
Nat Wingate, quite anxious to see if the trio displayed any evidence of guilt, quickly spoke up. "Yardsley had all his furs and skins stolen," he exclaimed, abruptly, and pausing to note the effect of his words, he glanced sharply at the three young men.
They seemed profoundly astonished.
"Had his furs stolen?" gasped Piper. "How—when?"
Nat proceeded to tell them, and when he had finished Hackett began his tale.
"Well, you fellows certainly had a strenuous day, all right," commented Robson with a long breath as he concluded. "Let's see—say, it happened just about the time I sent up the smoke signals, eh?"
Piper contracted his brow on hearing this, and stared reflectively at the floor. "It seems to me," he began.
"Can't you say nothin' else than 'it seems ter me'?" grinned Musgrove, impudently. "That's the ninth time yer said it. I counted 'em."
"Seems to me that you—"
"Makes ten!" Billy shifted his position and chuckled audibly, while Piper glared angrily for a moment, then resumed, "This is a pretty serious business, boys. Have you seen any one around lately?"
"No!"
"And doesn't Yardsley have any suspicions?"
An uncomfortable expression flitted across Nat Wingate's face, and slight as it was, Piper's quick eye detected it.
"Oh, ho!" put in the poet laureate, "it's all a mystery. Yardsley said yesterday that he never expected to find out who took them."
A sort of chuckle came from Billy Musgrove, which seemed to irritate Piper considerably. Heydon, too, looked over with a surprised air, remarking, "I'm sure I can't see what there is to amuse any one in an affair like this."
"I ain't said I was amused at the rob'ry," returned Musgrove with another chuckle.
"But at something—that's quite apparent," said Piper. For a moment he remained thoughtful, then, as an idea suddenly entered his mind, a slight flush crossed his face. "What is this, Wingate?" he asked, rather sharply. "What did old Yardsley say? Come, out with it. No need of any mystery."
"Brandon just told you," answered Nat, evasively.
"Oh, yes—but I'll be bound that wasn't all. Look at Musgrove—he can scarcely keep his face straight."
Silence followed this remark. It was broken by Rex Heydon, who observed, "I guess we can see through a wall when there's a hole in it. What are you afraid of?"
"Afraid?" Nat Wingate mechanically repeated the word, then came to a pause, looking considerably nonplussed.
Piper turned toward the smallest member of the Rambler Club and held up his finger. "Tom Clifton," he said, with a trace of anger in his voice, "I want to know exactly what that old trapper had to say!"
But Billy Musgrove interrupted. "What are you gittin' excited 'bout, Sniper?" he asked, the grin leaving his face. "Why do you want ter know what Pardsley says?"
"I'm not talking to you," snapped Piper.
"Come now—don't be scared, Tommy," he went on, encouragingly; "out with it. Wingate knows, but won't tell. Kind of lost his nerve, perhaps."
"You must think I lose my nerve pretty easily," laughed Nat.
"Well, it seems to me—that will do, Musgrove, if my English doesn't happen to please your scholarly mind, I can't help it—that you ought to be frank, Wingate. Your nature may be a little timid—some people are that way—and—"
"Can't say I like that," interrupted Nat, his eyes beginning to flash. "A little timid, eh? I guess you don't know me very well yet, Piper."
"Well, then, we'll test that a bit—of course no offense intended. Now it seems to me—"
A groan came from Musgrove. Piper cast an angry look in his direction, and continued, "Now—just show me how much nerve you have. I can tell that old Yardsley said something about us—don't deny it. Really doesn't make any difference, but—"
Nat Wingate half arose. He felt that all eyes were upon him and to be even mildly accused of lack of courage made the hot blood mount to his face. "Do you think I'd lose my nerve on your account?" he exclaimed,—"not much!"
"Come—come, fellows!" expostulated Dave Brandon, quietly; "there is no need of any trouble."
"The idea of him talkin' like that, when Springate's been insulted," chuckled Musgrove, in a hoarse whisper. "This is as good as a circus. But Sniper can't scare Springate none no, sir—not he."
"Piper," spoke up Robson, at this juncture, "you made a mistake in letting Muzz come in, after his impudence the other day."
"My imperdence?" Billy rose excitedly. "My imperdence?" he repeated, furiously. "If that don't beat all! I like that—of all the sassy fellers I ever run acrost, Sniper, you're the wust." Musgrove leaned forward—the light revealed a face purple with rage. "But yer can't scare me, or me pal, Tim—no, sir!"
"And I won't stand fur no sass, neither," asserted Sladder, taking a stand by the side of his chum. "We ain't lookin' fur trouble, but when it comes, we kin handle an awful lot."
Piper glared for a moment at the two boys, then arose. "You will have precious little opportunity for handling any around here," he observed, "or for making any, either."
"'Seems ter me,'" retorted Musgrove, also arising, "that it was you what's been makin' a fuss. I never seen sich a crowd."
Charlie Piper was thoroughly incensed. "Get out of this cabin, you grinning jackanapes," he cried, wrathfully. Then, walking to the door, he threw it open. "Take yourselves and that clumsy old brute out of here before my temper gets the best of me."
"Oh, we ain't pertic'lar anxious ter stay," sneered Musgrove, as he spitefully kicked over the box on which he had been sitting and edged away. "You're a nice one—a pertic'lar nice one—oh, yes! An' Springate ain't the feller I think he is, if he lets hisself be insulted. Imperdence, eh? Well, you know how ter hand it out, all right."
"An' I ain't standing fur no more of it, neither," added Tim Sladder. "Come on, Bowser!" And the Stony Creek boys stalked slowly and defiantly toward the door.
"Nice, pleasant evening," remarked Nat, dryly.
"Mean anything by that?" queried Piper.
"Come now, Charlie," interposed Heydon. "Those Stony Creek fellows have kind of spoiled things. Let it drop."
"If some one had had the courage to speak out in a manly fashion, this trouble could all have been avoided," returned the other. "Don't blame the whole thing on them."
"Boys!" exclaimed Heydon, with a deprecatory gesture. "No use taking that seriously. Call the thing ended. Won't you have a cup of coffee?"
"I think not," answered Nat, coldly, as he arose from his seat. "Guess I'll be going, too," he continued. "Hang it all—no matter what Yardsley said, it's no affair of ours."
"Might be better to change the subject now," said Fulmer Robson, with a forced laugh, "and begin—"
"I'll say good-night, fellows," continued Nat, as he took a step toward the door. "Coming along, Hackett?"
"Well, if you are in such a humor as that," snapped Piper, "I've nothing further to say. No doubt that fellow Yardsley thinks we stole his furs—I could read it in your face."
"We're not responsible for another person's opinion," observed Hackett, a little disappointed that the row had not assumed larger proportions.
"Still I notice that no one has the sand to let me know what he said." Piper spoke in a most sarcastic tone, and glanced from Hackett to Wingate.
Nat's brown eyes flashed. "You'll admit yourself, Piper," he blurted out, "that it looks mighty singular. Just at the time we are sent for, the furs happen to disappear. Anybody would be a fool not to—"
"That will do," interrupted Piper, harshly. "The whole crowd of you might as well get out. This isn't the end of the affair by a long shot!"
Hackett opened the door. "And you'll find out that we have as much sand as anybody," he growled. "Don't you forget it."
"It needs to be proven," retorted Piper, angrily. "If you are going, kindly shut the door. We don't care to be frozen out."
"If you want proofs," snapped Hackett, "you'll get them fast enough. This crowd doesn't take a back seat for anybody."
"Very good—but just remember that we're in no mood to be trifled with," was Piper's parting fling.
Almost before they realized it, the boys found themselves standing outside the cabin, wondering at the strange termination of their visit.
Meanwhile Tim Sladder and Billy Musgrove had not left the vicinity. They considered themselves grievously insulted, and Bowser, too, had been referred to in the most slurring manner. As the two conversed in low tones, their anger grew, rather than lessened.
In the full glare of moonlight, the Stony Creek boys stood, dark and mysterious against a background of silvery white snow, now and then turning toward the cabin to make a threatening gesture. Finally, instead of re-crossing the lake, and moving as if some momentous scheme was under way, they began to climb the hill back of the cabin. It was steep and partially bare of trees.
On reaching the top, Billy Musgrove chuckled—it was a particularly mirthful chuckle, and seemed to indicate that his wrathful feelings had been swallowed up in those of a more pleasant nature. Below, the cabin appeared as a dark patch, while a glimmer of pale yellow light spread over the snow from the window on the other side.
"We jest hit the right scheme, Tim," exclaimed Musgrove, cautiously. "'Bout here is the spot. We'll make a whopper, an' it oughter swoop down like a streak o' lightnin'. That 'seems ter me' feller will find out it ain't good ter insult us none."
Tim Sladder grinned. "I can hardly wait," he said. "Here you, Bowser—keep quiet. Guess it will surprise 'em some. Let's begin ter scoop it up. Plenty of big drifts jest in the right place."
"My, but Springate was mad with Sniper," chuckled Billy. "Hope they ain't gone when this here punk'n begins a-rollin'."
With an energy that would have done credit to a more worthy cause, the Stony Creek boys began to get together a pile of snow. A big mass was pounded and rolled together until it became firm and solid.
They watched the white ball growing into formidable dimensions with many stifled bursts of laughter, while old Bowser, taking a languid interest in the proceedings, gazed curiously as it was rolled from place to place gathering up more snow.
"Hello—believe them chaps is a-comin' out now," observed Sladder. "Ain't that Piper a-talkin' loud?"
"Guess you're right, Tim," chuckled Musgrove, listening intently. "Sounds like a scrap, don't it?"
"Wouldn't worry me none, if it was. But don't let 'em see you, Billy."
"This here huckleberry is 'most done an' ready ter roll. Git back a bit, Tim. I can see 'em hangin' around the door. Say—there's Scummers a-callin' us."
"Let 'im call. We ain't got no time ter gab. Important business on hand." Tim Sladder chuckled and peered cautiously over the edge of the declivity. An exclamation of impatience escaped him, as he saw several dusky figures wending their way toward the base of the hill. "By jingo, they must have heard us," he exclaimed. "Believe they're a-comin' up, too."
Consternation seemed to seize Musgrove. "An' we jest ready ter start the ball a-rollin'," he growled. "Quick, Tim—if they once gits up, they'll stop us, maybe. Shove the punk'n over, an' scoot."
The boys jumped toward the huge snowball. With an effort that taxed all their strength, they managed to roll it toward a mass of underbrush, then the two disappeared amidst the trees.
The sound of voices from below grew louder, and Musgrove, with the greatest caution, presently moved forward to a place where he could see over the edge of the hill.
"What are they a-doin'?" questioned Tim, eagerly.
"Tryin' ter mind our business, fur sure—the hull crowd is a-comin' up."
"Right this way?" asked Sladder, in alarm.
"No! Kinder circlin' around. Yer can yell yer head off, Scummers, but nobody ain't goin' ter answer."
"Can't we roll it over now?" put in Sladder, eagerly.
"Best wait." Billy drew back like a shot. "Thought sure they seed me that time," he whispered. "Lay low—get down, you Bowser."
Screening themselves behind a mass of underbrush, the boys kept their eyes on the others, who, climbing the hill some distance off, were occasionally lost to view behind the trees.
Hoping that they would soon be discouraged and give up the search, Sladder and Musgrove remained silent, but as the minutes flew by they saw the Kingswood boys pushing steadily up the hill.
"Ain't this the meanest luck?" growled Sladder, in scarcely audible tones. "But they ain't a-goin' ter stop us—no, sir—they ain't. Wow! They's a-comin' this way. Stir yourself, Billy!"
"They must have heerd us, or they wouldn't have been nosin' around fur fifteen minutes," returned Musgrove, disgustedly.
Throwing aside all caution, the latter straightened up, and with Sladder at his heels, boldly walked toward the huge snowball.
"Crickets, Billy, this is 'most as heavy as lead," puffed the latter, as he attempted to roll it.
"It's a whopper, all right—quick—them fellers is a-gittin' close't."
Putting their shoulders to the mass, they shoved it over to the brink of the hill.
Their presence had now been discovered, for Bowser, not understanding the necessity for silence, uttered a long, doleful bark.
"Get it headed straight, Tim," exclaimed Musgrove, breathing hard. "Jest a leetle this way. Aim fur them twigs in front, an' it'll land all right."
"Them fellers can't stop us now," said Sladder, with a grin of delight. "Everything ready, eh?—one—two—three!"
From the point where the two stood, there was a smooth, steep declivity, then a nearly level stretch leading to the cabin.
Chuckling loudly, the two boys gave the enormous ball a mighty shove.
"Mind your eye when Swiper an' Jobson come out. Won't they be wild? Oh, my, it's a-tearin' along, eh? Somethin' goin' ter bust, sure."
Eagerly they kept their eyes on the ball, which gathered speed every instant and was headed directly for the cabin.
With an irresistible rush it reached the bottom of the hill, dashed across the intervening stretch like a flash and brought up with a frightful bang against the side of the cabin. An ominous crashing of timbers followed, and gleams of light were seen issuing from the spot where it had struck. Then silence reigned.
It was but for an instant, however. With loud shouts of vengeance, three young men, wildly excited, issued from the door and made a bee-line for seven boys who had come to a stop at the summit of the hill.
Sladder, Musgrove and Bowser melted silently away into the sombre depths of the woods.