CHAPTER XV

A MIDNIGHT VISITOR

Hiram Skeetles’ surprise was great when Fred made his declaration, and for several seconds he felt unable to reply.

“You—er—want me to let you use this lodge after all?” he said, slowly.

“That is what I said, Mr. Skeetles. And let me add that it will be a good bargain for you to make with us.”

“I don’t see it. I came here a-purpose to make ye leave.”

“Well, ‘circumstances alter cases,’ you know. You didn’t expect to be caught in a blizzard, did you?”

“No, if I had known it was going to snow like this I’d stayed home.”

“We will do the lodge no harm,” put in Joe.

“Fact is, we’ve already mended the roof and the window, as you can see.”

“Yes, I know, but——”

“But what?” came from Harry.

“Never mind now.” Hiram Skeetles had been on the point of mentioning his missing pocketbook and the papers, but he checked himself. “How long do you intend to stay?”

“Not over two or three weeks at the most.”

“Hum!” The real estate dealer paused and scratched his head in perplexity. “What do you say, Dan?” he questioned of Marcy.

“I reckon we had best make a bargain with ’em,” answered the bully, who thought much of good eating. “Even if they stay here they can’t do much in such a fall of snow.”

“Yes, but my pocketbook,” whispered Hiram Skeetles.

“More than likely, if it’s around, the snow has covered it completely.”

“I wouldn’t have ’em find that for a—a good deal.”

“All right, do as you please. But I want something to eat besides deer meat. You promised to take good care of me if I came on the trip with you.”

“Do you want to make terms?” shouted Joe.

“I reckon as how I might jest as well,” came slowly from Skeetles. “What will ye let me have?” he asked, cautiously.

“Whatever we can spare that you need.”

“Ye ain’t going to charge me for it, are ye?”

“No, we’ll give it to you free and clear, on the condition we have already named.”

“When do you want to come to the lodge?”

“As soon as you leave it.”

“And that must be inside of a day or two,” added Fred.

“All right, I’ll agree,” said Hiram Skeetles, with something like an inward groan. “When do we git them stores?”

“You can come down to our place now and get them.”

“We can’t come out by the door; we’ll have to climb through the window,” put in Dan Marcy.

“We don’t care how you come,” answered Joe. “But you must leave your guns behind,” he added, suddenly.

“What for?”

“Because we won’t trust you with them,” put in Fred, bluntly.

This did not please Hiram Skeetles nor the bully, but the young hunters were firm, and were backed up by Joel Runnell, and in the end the pair in the lodge came forth unarmed.

“Ye ain’t going to play no trick on us, are ye?” questioned the real estate dealer, suspiciously.

“No, we’ll treat you fair and square,” said Joe.

They led the way to the shelter under the pines, and allowed those from Snow Lodge to come in over the snow wall to the side of the camp fire. Then all hands looked over the stores still remaining, and Runnell announced the articles which he thought might be spared.

“’Tain’t very much,” sniffed Hiram Skeetles.

“It’s the best we can do,” came from Joe. “Take it or leave it.”

“Oh, we’ll take it,” put in Dan Marcy, quickly, and gathered up some of the articles as he spoke.

“Hold on!” cried Harry. “Before you touch a thing you must promise us faithfully to leave the lodge by this time to-morrow.”

“We will leave—unless another heavy storm comes up,” answered Hiram Skeetles.

“If you are not out, in case it stays clear, we shall consider that we have the right to put you out,” said Joe. “These goods pay for our lease of Snow Lodge for three weeks, starting from to-morrow noon.”

“All right,” growled the real estate dealer; and then he and Dan Marcy were allowed to depart with the stores which had been allotted to them.

“I guess we’ve made a pretty good bargain with them,” said Joe, when they were alone. “Now we can move into the lodge and fix it up to suit ourselves.”

“It was like pulling teeth to get old Skeetles to consent,” came from Fred. “It gives him a regular fit to have us on the island. I must say I can’t understand it.”

“I’d really like to know if those missing papers have anything to do with it,” mused Harry. “If he lost them here I’d give a good deal to find them.”

“Did you ever hear where that boat struck?” asked Joe of Joel Runnell.

“It seems to me it struck just south of Needle Rock,” was the answer. “But I’m not certain. I might find out, though.”

“Where is Needle Rock?”

“On the other shore of the island, about half a mile from here.”

“Well, I’m going there some day and have a look around.”

The rest of the day passed quietly. Some time later Runnell went off on his snowshoes to look for the fourth deer—the one Harry had abandoned. When he came back he said he had found only the head and a few bones.

“The wolves carried off the rest,” he said. “And they ate up those dead wolves on the main shore, too.”

“Well, I don’t want to meet any more of those critters,” said Harry, grimly.

“Nor do I,” added his brother. “The only good wolf is a dead one.”

“And I don’t know that he is good for much,” laughed Fred.

Strange to say, with the going down of the sun the wind came up again, a steady breeze, gradually increasing to little short of a gale.

“We are going to have another wild night,” said old Runnell. “We’ll have to watch the fire.”

“By all means,” cried Fred. “We don’t want to burn up.”

All hands sat up until after nine o’clock, listening to the wind as it whistled through the trees and hurled the snow against the shelter. Outside the stars shone brightly, but there was no moon.

“Hark! I hear a bark!” said Fred, presently. “Can there be a dog around?”

“Marcy owns a dog or two,” answered Joe. “But I didn’t know he had them here.”

“That was the bark of a fox,” came from Joel Runnell. “It’s a wonder to me we haven’t heard them before.”

“Perhaps the wolves have made them keep quiet,” suggested Harry.

“More than likely, or else they have been snowed up.”

The young hunters were sleepy, and it did not take any of them very long to sink into slumber after retiring. Then Runnell fixed the fire for the night, and laid down close to the opening of the shelter.

A half hour went by and the fire began to die down. The wind kept on increasing, and some of the stars went under a cloud, making the night quite dark.

From the direction of Snow Lodge a form crept into view. It was Dan Marcy, with his coat buttoned up to his ears, and his slouch hat pulled far down over his brow.

With cautious steps Marcy reached the wall of snow and peered over into the inclosure. By the faint firelight he saw the feet and lower limbs of Joel Runnell, and, listening intently, heard the old hunter snoring.

“All asleep,” he murmured to himself. “Good enough. Now we’ll see if we can’t have the stores we want, and a little more besides.”

As silently as a cat he climbed over the snow wall and approached the fire. Beside the large shelter was a small one, and here rested the various traps and stores of our friends.

Dan Marcy had brought with him a large but thin blanket, and this he now spread on the ground, and began to place in it such articles as he wanted, and which the young hunters and old Runnell had denied him. There was a tin of coffee and another of sugar, and a fine, thick slice of bacon that made his mouth water.

“I’ll have that bacon out of the way before they get up,” he told himself. “And a cup of strong coffee will be just the thing for washing it down with.”

He had these articles and several others in the blanket, and was on the point of making a bundle of them, when there came a sudden and unexpected interruption. From the top of the wall of snow came a short, sharp bark, that caused him to jump.

“A dog!” he thought. “I didn’t know they had one.” And then, as the bark was repeated, he leaped back in alarm.

It was only a fox, but Marcy did not know this, and felt sure he was on the point of being discovered.

“Shut up!” he whispered. “Shut up, do you hear?” And then, as the fox barked again, he ran for the other side of the wall of snow and began to climb to the top.

The barking of the fox aroused both Runnell and Harry, and each leaped up, reaching for his gun as he did so.

“What is it?” asked the young hunter.

“A fox—and he’s pretty close,” was the answer. “Reckon as how I had best give him a shot to scare him off.”

Running outside, Runnell looked around, but in the semi-darkness could see but little. Aiming high, he fired his gun. As he did this he heard a yell some distance away.

“Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot!”

“Who’s there?” he demanded, but this question was not answered.

The discharging of the gun aroused the others of the party, and all came rushing out to the fireside.

“What did you fire at?” asked Joe.

“Well, I thought I fired after a fox,” came dryly from old Runnell. “But I kind of reckon he was a two-legged one.”

“Do you mean some person was around here?”

“Exactly.”

“But I heard a fox bark,” came from Harry.

“So did I, lad, and after I fired I heard somebody yell, ‘Don’t shoot me!’ ’Pears to me it was Dan Marcy’s voice, too.”

“What could have brought him over this time of night?” asked Fred.

“Here is what brought him over!” ejaculated Harry, who had stirred up the camp fire. And he pointed to the blanket and the things lying in it.

Joe gave a low whistle.

“Going to rob us, eh? It’s lucky we scared him off.”

“Well, that is what I call downright mean,” said Fred. “And after we let them have those other things, too! We ought to go over and have it out with them right now.”

“Don’t do anything hasty,” interposed Joel Runnell. “I reckon Marcy feels mean enough at being caught in the act.”

“Oh, he hasn’t any feelings,” growled Harry. “He’s a wolf in man’s clothing.”

The matter was talked over for some time, and it was decided to let the affair rest until morning.

“And then we can all give Marcy and Skeetles a piece of our mind,” said Joe.

“Do you think they’ll come back?” asked Fred.

“Not a bit of it,” answered old Runnell.

And satisfied of this, all turned in again to get what sleep they could ere the sun came up.