“That’s right, too,” agreed Biff. “I never thought of that. Perhaps the supplies are around this island yet. We’ll take another look this afternoon.”
For the present, however, their immediate interest was the long-delayed breakfast which Chet was enthusiastically preparing. He soon had bacon and eggs, bread, coffee and jam on the table, and the lads attacked the meal with gusto. Eventually their hearty appetites were appeased.
“What now?” asked Joe.
“I think we ought to spend the rest of the day exploring the island,” Frank suggested. “We haven’t really looked the place over yet and we might just chance to run across those supplies.”
The others agreed that his plan was good, so they donned their coats and caps and set about a systematic search of the island.
Frank, in charge of the hunt, outlined a plan of procedure.
“We’ll figure it this way,” he said. “Suppose we were coming to this cabin to steal those supplies, with the idea of hiding them. Where could we go? There are only certain directions we could go without ending up at a cliff or without finding ourselves in the deep snow at the top of the island. We’ll try to put ourselves in the thief’s place.”
“If it were I,” said Joe, “I’d make right for that clump of trees over to the left. Those supplies were heavy. The thief wouldn’t want to carry them very far, yet he would want a good hiding place.”
“That’s right,” agreed the others.
“Well, let’s tackle the trees, then.”
The boys made their way across the snow-covered rocks until they reached the clump of bushes Joe had pointed out, and there they searched carefully, kicking away the snow at the base of the trees, in the hope of uncovering the missing supplies.
But their efforts met with no success. They hunted through the entire grove and the only result of their search was that Chet stubbed his toe when he dealt a vicious kick at a rock hidden beneath the snow.
“We’re out of luck here,” said Frank finally. “Has anyone else any good suggestions?”
“Well,” said Biff, “if I stole those supplies I’d hide them down by the shore some place, among the rocks.”
“We’ll give it a try. What’s the nearest way to the shore from the cabin?”
“Down that little path at the back.”
“Away we go, then!”
They left the clump of trees and ploughed through the snow toward the defile that led down from the rear of the cabin to the rocks along the icebound shore. The rocks were covered with snow, but their round masses rose irregularly against the background of the ice.
“We have a job ahead of us if we start moving all these rocks,” objected Chet, with misgivings.
“We’re not going to move ’em,” said Frank, “That would take us about five years of steady work. We’re just going to kick the snow loose.”
They attacked the heaps of rocks, prowling about, kicking gingerly at the snow, dislodging it from the hollows. For some time their efforts met with no success. But at last Biff, who had edged a considerable distance away from his companions, gave a sharp cry.
“I believe there’s something here, fellows!”
The others went running over to him.
“What have you found?”
Biff held up an object he had picked up from the snow.
“My foot bumped against this,” he explained. “It looks like a can of coffee from our supplies.”
“It’s the same brand!” declared Chet excitedly.
“We’ll hunt carefully all around here,” Frank decided. “Perhaps the thief just happened to drop that can of coffee as he was going toward the ice, but perhaps he didn’t. It’s worth making a good search.”
With this clue to guide them, the boys plunged into the search with feverish activity. The snow flew in clouds as they rolled away the rocks. After a while, Frank and Joe, dislodging a particularly large boulder, gave a yell of triumph.
“We’ve found it!”
The large rock had been placed carefully on top of two others, protecting a big hollow underneath. And in this hollow the boys found the two boxes containing all of the missing supplies. They had been well sheltered from the snow, and were dry and unharmed.
Chet gave a howl of relief.
“Hidden treasure!” he gloated. “So that’s where the supplies went! Come on, fellows! Back to the cabin with them!”
As the lads loaded themselves with boxes, cans, and packages, Frank nodded his head with satisfaction.
“I didn’t think they had really been stolen. I guess this pretty well proves that someone hid them here just to get rid of us.”
“A mighty mean trick!” snorted Biff.
“If that can of coffee hadn’t rolled out, we’d never have found the supplies,” observed Joe. “I’d have thought twice before I’d have tackled that big rock.”
“Well, we’ve found the grub, and that’s all that matters,” came from Chet.
Joe was emptying one of the boxes when he came across an object that he knew had not been among the supplies originally.
“I wonder what this is,” he remarked, picking it up.
The object was a small notebook. He glanced through its pages and found that most of them were blank, although there was a certain amount of writing on the opening sheets.
“What’s this you’ve found?” asked his brother, coming over.
Joe handed him the notebook.
“I’m sure none of us had a notebook like this.”
“It isn’t mine,” said Biff.
“Nor mine,” added Chet.
Frank’s expression brightened.
“Say, I wonder if it belongs to the chap who stole our supplies. Perhaps it dropped out of his pocket into the box as he was bending over.”
“Perhaps the fellow’s name is in it,” suggested Biff. “Look through it and see.”
Frank skimmed the pages.
“Here’s where we get the goods on Hanleigh, I’ll bet. If this is his notebook, we have positive proof that he stole our supplies.”
On the fly leaf of the notebook he came across an inscription. It was a man’s name.
But the name was not that of their enemy, Hanleigh.
Written across the page, in a bold, flowing script, they saw the name, “J. Sparewell.”
“Well, can you beat that!” exclaimed Chet. “It wasn’t
