Lester drew in his paddle and listened. He heard a whistling in the air, as a solitary duck flew swiftly up the lake, and that was the only sound that broke the stillness. The trees on the shore loomed up darkly against the sky, and presented the appearance of a solid wall of ebony. Lester could not see anything that looked like a shooting-box, but Bob knew it was there, and when he had listened long enough to satisfy himself that there was nobody in it or about it, he brought the bow of the boat around and paddled toward the shore. "Which way is it from here?" asked Lester, when the two had disembarked. "I can't see anything." "Hold fast to my coat-tail," replied Bob, "and I'll show it to you in a minute." Lester being thus taken in tow was safely conducted up the bank. Presently he heard a door unlatched and opened, a match was struck and he found himself inside the shooting-box. He could scarcely have been more surprised if he had found himself inside a little palace. The shooting-box was not a shanty, as he expected to find it, but a conveniently-arranged and neatly-constructed house. He borrowed a few matches of Bob and proceeded to take a thorough survey of it. "Don must have spent a good deal of time in fixing this up," said he. "He certainly has," replied Bob, "and he handles tools like a born carpenter, too. I suppose this is a nice place to get away to when the fellows are here shooting over their decoys. Joe Packard says so, at any rate. They have mattresses and bed clothes in the bunks, a carpet and rugs on the floor, camp chairs and stools enough for the whole party, and they sit here of evenings and crack hickory-nuts and tell stories and have boss times." "It's almost a pity to break up their fun." "It's a greater pity that Don should take money out of our pockets and put it into those of that beggar, Dave Evans," answered Bob, spitefully. "That's so," said Lester, who grew angry every time he thought of it. "Set her agoing!" That was a matter of no difficulty. There was an abundance of dry fuel and kindling wood in the little closet under the chimney, and some of the latter was quickly whittled into shavings by the aid of Bob's pocket knife, Lester standing by and burning matches to light him at his work. More kindling wood was placed upon the shavings, dry stove wood was piled upon the top of this, then the slats in the bunks, the table and every other movable thing in the cabin that would burn was thrown on, and Bob took a match in his hand and extended another to his companion. "You light one side and I'll light the other," said he. "Then you can't say I did it, and I can't say you did it!"