“Yes, Teddy,” said Harry, promptly, and shook hands, and then Link did the same. All would have overslept on the following morning had not old Runnell called them up ere it was daylight. He had already started the breakfast, and soon some of the others were helping him. “Oh, must I get up so soon,” sighed Harry. “I could sleep three hours more.” “No lazybones in this camp, young man,” cried Joe. “Remember, we are going to try to locate those tramps.” It was a perfect day, with the sun shining brightly over the long stretches of ice and snow. There was no wind, and on every side all was as silent as a tomb, saving for the occasional cry of a winter bird, or the distant barking of a fox. “This is genuine life in the open,” said Joe. “I tell you what, boys, we couldn’t have a finer outing.” “I must try for some more pictures,” said Harry, and before he left the camp he loaded his camera with films, so that he would be prepared to “shoot” whatever struck his fancy. From Teddy they had obtained all the information possible concerning the three tramps, and as soon as they were well on the road to the shore Joel Runnell allowed Teddy to go in the lead. “Mind ye, I don’t say I can spot the rascals,” said the Irish lad. “But I’ll do me best.” “That is all anybody can do, Teddy,” answered Joe. “Even if we don’t catch ’em it won’t be such a terrible disappointment, although I’d like to see the fellows brought to justice.” “They ought to be brought to justice,” put in old Runnell. “Nobody in these parts will be safe with such rascals at large.” “I wonder what has become of Dan Marcy and Hiram Skeetles,” mused Harry. “It’s a wonder they are not watching us, isn’t it?” “Guess the cold snap was too much for them,” answered Fred. “I don’t believe old Skeetles cares much for an outing anyway. He’d rather stay in town and make money.” “I’ve heard that he has been very mean to a great many persons,” said Link. “There was one old Irish washerwoman that owed him ten or fifteen dollars and he pestered the life out of her trying to get it.” “That’s right,” came from Teddy. “It was the Widdy O’Rourke, an’ my folks and a lot of others made up a purse for her, so she could buy a railroad ticket to Caleville, where her married daughter lives. The daughter was too poor to pay for the ticket, but she wrote that if her mother would come on she would do the best she could to give her a home.” “And did old Skeetles get the ten or fifteen dollars?” asked Bart. “Sure he did. He wouldn’t let her leave town till she had paid. Oh, he’s a skinflint, he is,” concluded Teddy. CHAPTER XXVI THE HOUSE IN THE WOODS They reached the shore at a point where a long stretch of pines bent down heavily with their weight of snow. The scene was so beautiful that Harry stopped long enough to get two time exposure pictures, using very small stops, so that the outlines might be extra sharp.