"What are we going to do about it?" asked Brick.

"Well, we've got to have our traps back," said Jerry, "that's certain.

And there's only one way to do it. We must cut down the path as though we were retreating. Then we'll make a detour and lie in wait for the rascal and try to take him by surprise."

This plan offered much risk in spite of Jerry's confident words. But a better course was out of the question.

So the boys rose, and tramped down the winding path, purposely making as much noise as possible, to show that they were retreating. Half-way from the bottom of the valley the boys turned to the left. They followed the rugged mountain side for several hundred yards. Then they mounted straight to the summit and crossed in safety.

Suddenly Jerry uttered a low cry. He sprang forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed a small, dark object that was lying in the snow.

"What is it?" exclaimed his companions.

"A tin dipper," was the reply. "It must have fallen off one of the sleds."

Hamp instantly struck a match, and the flame revealed plain sled-marks leading across the valley.

"We're outwitted again," groaned Brick. "This is awful luck."

"Yes; the rascal must have pulled out the minute he heard us go down the ravine," said Jerry. "By this time he has a big start."

The situation of the lads was now truly deplorable. Yet their very helplessness made it necessary for them to push on.

The trail of the sleds led to an easy pa.s.s in the opposite range of mountains. The boys trudged rapidly through this, and emerged in what seemed to be a broad, deep valley.

They pushed on for a quarter of a mile. Then they were stopped by a deep and rapid stream, which was frozen along the edge.

But one match was now left. Hamp cautiously lit it, and it was instantly seen that the thief had turned down the valley.

"We're still on the right track, anyhow," said Jerry. "We can't well miss the rascal, either. He'll stick to the stream until he finds a place to cross."

"He won't find one very soon," declared Hamp. "This is the Mallowgash Creek, if I'm not mistaken. It flows into Chesumcook, and it's broad and deep all the way. It's too swift to freeze."

"I don't see a speck of light ahead," said Brick, as he glanced down the valley. "The thief must be still traveling."

"And that's what we've got to do," replied Jerry. "Come on."

An hour slipped by, and then another. The boys could hardly drag their aching feet along. They yearned to drop down and sleep. But they knew that if they succ.u.mbed to the temptation, they would never wake again.

Now the strip of open suddenly faded into a gloomy pine forest that grew to the water's edge. The boys stumbled from side to side among the trees, and presently came out of the forest into open ground. Some distance ahead a ray of yellow light was visible.

"At last!" muttered Hamp. "We have run the rascal down."

"Yes; there's his campfire," said Brick. "I hope he's sound asleep."

"Not too fast, you fellows," whispered Jerry. "That light is too steady for a fire. But we'll investigate and make sure."

He led the boys softly forward. They were moving off from the stream at an angle now. The roar of the water grew fainter with every step. A few yards ahead was a copse of tall bushes, which concealed the yellow gleam.

The boys made a detour around them, and the next instant they were fairly blinded by a dazzling glare of light.

Their eyes quickly became accustomed to it, and then they made an unexpected and joyful discovery.

The light shone from a single window in the end of a long, low house that stood some fifty feet away. The intervening s.p.a.ce 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.

The exception was a tall, muscular fellow of about forty. His face was covered with a stubbly red beard, and its expression was crafty and brutal. Before him were a plate of food and a mug of coffee. He was eating and drinking in the greedy fashion of a hungry pig.

The boys looked on for several minutes. They were too deeply interested to be prudent. But, fortunately, none of the loggers glanced toward the window.

All at once Hamp clutched Jerry's arm in a strong, excited grip.

"Look!" he whispered. "Over there are our sleds, against the wall."

"I see them," replied Jerry. "Hush! don't make any noise. I want to hear what they are talking about."

The boys put their heads closer together. They looked and listened. The conversation had been low and unintelligible. Now it suddenly rose to a higher pitch.

"Whar've you been all this time, Sparwick?" demanded a red-shirted logger at the head of the table, who seemed to be a leader among his companions. "I reckoned you wasn't in this part of the country."

"I reckoned he was in jail," cried the man next him, with a loud guffaw, and general laughter followed.

The red-bearded man, who was eating, lifted his face from the plate, and scowled angrily.

"I didn't come here ter be insulted, Thomson," he replied, addressing the first speaker. "I've been workin' with Bill Jordan's loggin' gang up at the head of Chesumcook. I'm goin' down ter Bangor now fur a spell."

"Yer seem ter hev kinder struck it rich," pursued Thomson. "Two sleds an' a lot of truck!"

"I borrowed 'em up at the camp," said Sparwick, carelessly. "I've got spruce gum packed under the blankets. I oughter realize on it purty handsome."

He glanced at the sleds; then tilted his chair back.