"That's agreeable to me," responded Roy; "but suppose we examine the vicinity first. We might get a clew as to the rascals who are responsible for this."

"That's true," agreed Jimsy.

"Then suppose we start with the hut first."

They accepted this proposition eagerly. The hut was a substantial looking building with a padlock on the door. But the portal stood wide open, the padlock hanging in a hasp.

"What if anyone pounces on us?" asked Peggy in rather a scared tone.

"No fear of that," replied Roy, "the place is plainly unoccupied."

They entered the hut and found it to be as primitive inside as its exterior would indicate. A table and two rude chairs stood within.

These, with the exception of a rusty cook stove in one corner, formed the sole furnishings. There was not even a window in the place.

"Nothing much to be found here," declared Roy after a cursory examination; "I guess this shack was put up by lumbermen or hunters.

It doesn't seem to have been occupied for a long time."

"I guess the men who took the aeroplane must have been pretty familiar with the place though," opined Jimsy.

"No doubt of that," replied Roy, "but that doesn't give us any clew to their ident.i.ty beyond bare suspicions."

"Yes, and suspicions aren't much good in law," chimed in Peggy, "they--Good gracious!"

The door closed suddenly with a bang. Before Jimsy could spring across the room to open it there came a sharp click.

"Somebody's padlocked it on the outside!" he cried.

"And we're prisoners!" gasped Peggy.

"Yes, and without any chance of getting out, either," declared Jimsy; "there's not even a window in the place."

"Well this is worse and more of it," cried Roy. "Who can have done that?"

"The same people that stole the _Golden b.u.t.terfly,"_ declared Peggy.

"Hark!"

Outside they heard rapidly retreating footsteps, followed by a harsh laugh.

"Let us out!" shouted Roy.

"You can stay there till judgment day, for all I care," came back a hoa.r.s.e, rasping voice; "you kids were too fresh, and now you're getting what's coming to you."

CHAPTER XIII.

PRISONERS IN THE HUT.

It was almost pitch dark within the hut. Only from a crack under the door could any light enter. For an instant after the taunting of the voices of the men who had locked them in reached their ears, the trio of youthful prisoners remained silent.

Peggy it was who spoke first.

"Well, what's to be done now?" she demanded.

"We've got to get out of here," responded Jimsy, with embarra.s.sing candor.

"That's plain enough," struck in Roy; "but how do you propose to do it?"

"I don't know; let's look about. Maybe there's a chimney or something."

"There's no opening larger than that one where the stove pipe goes through. I've noticed that already," responded Roy.

"Phew! This _is_ a fix for fair."

"I should say so; but kicking about it won't help us at all. Let's make a thorough investigation."

In the darkness they groped about, but could discover nothing that appeared to hold out a promise of escape. The two boys shook the door violently; but it was firm on its hinges.

Next Roy proposed to cut a way through it with his pocket knife.

"We'd be starved to death by the time you cut through that stuff,"

declared Jimsy.

In proof of this he kicked the door, and the resulting sound showed that it was built of solid wood without any thin panels which might be cut through.

"What next?"

Peggy asked the question as the two perspiring lads stood perplexed without speaking or moving.

"Jiggered if I know," spoke Jimsy; "can't you or Roy think of anything?"

"We might try to batter the door down with that table," suggested Roy.

"It's worth trying. We've got to get out of here somehow."

The two boys picked up the heavy, roughly made table and commenced a violent a.s.sault on the door. But although they dented it heavily, and sent some splinters flying, the portal held its own. At length they desisted from pure weariness. The situation looked hopeless.

"It looks pretty bad," spoke Jimsy.

"It does indeed," agreed Roy. "Peggy, I wish we hadn't brought you along."

"And why, pray, Roy Prescott?"

"Oh, because--because, well, this isn't the sort of thing for a girl."

"Well, I guess if my brother can stand it I can," rejoined the girl, pluckily and in a firm voice.