The noon hour found them still on the hunt. Fortunately they had brought some lunch along in one of the game bags, and they sat down in a sunny and sheltered nook to eat this, warming up a can of coffee over a tiny campfire Chet kindled. Then the hunt was renewed, and kept up in various places until the sun began to go down over the woods to the westward. "It will be dark in an hour more, Andy," said Chet, kindly. "I guess we had better return to the cabin. We can come out again tomorrow, if you wish." "I--I don't think it will be any use to come out again, Chet." Andy's voice was very unsteady. "I am afraid the papers are gone for good!" "Oh, I wouldn't give it up yet!" "If I only knew where I had dropped them! But I don't know. They may be right around here, and they may be half a mile away." It was with a downcast heart that Andy followed his chum back to the cabin. Somehow, he had hoped that the timber claim would prove a valuable one, and that he would get a goodly share of it. Now that hope was shattered. "I won't be able to prove a thing without the documents," he told himself. "And it would be useless to try." That evening the matter was talked over by the men and the boys from every point of view, but nothing came of it. Barwell Dawson agreed with Andy that nothing could be accomplished until the missing documents were brought to light. "I really think your uncle is to blame for this," said the hunter. "If he had not acted as he did, you would not have been forced to run away, and then the papers might be safe and sound at your cabin." "I'd like to know what became of that A. Q. Hopton," said Andy. "Well, he didn't get the papers, and that's one comfort," said Chet, with a sickly grin. There was now no use in going to Lodgeport to see a lawyer, and instead, Andy and Chet went out again for another search. But this was as useless as the others. Not a trace of the missing documents could be found anywhere. "Might as well give it up," sighed Andy. "They are gone, and that is all there is to it." Again matters were talked over, and Barwell Dawson advised Andy to go home and face his uncle. "If you wish, I'll go with you," said the hunter. "Perhaps I can get him to tell just what that A. Q. Hopton was up to." "I'd like it first-rate, if you would go along, Mr. Dawson," answered the boy quickly. "Want me along?" asked Chet. "You might as well come," answered Andy. "We can take some of the moose meat. The horns are yours, Chet." They set off for the Graham cabin on the following morning. Barwell Dawson's ankle was now quite well, although he was prudently careful how he used it. It had cleared off rather warm, so the trip was a pleasant one. The boys had with them all the meat they could carry, and also their guns, and wore the snow-shoes Professor Jeffer had loaned them. On the way Chet asked Barwell Dawson how soon he expected to start for the north.