Impetuous George Abbot was about to rush forward when Tom, stretching out a hand, held him back. “Hold on a minute,” he said, and there was some strange quality in Tom’s voice that made his chum obey. “What’s up?” he asked, glancing from Tom to the cabin. “Nothing yet, but there may be,” was the cool answer. “You mean there may be someone in that cabin--Skeel or those other men?” “That’s about the size of it,” Tom said. “That’s right--best to be on the safe side,” put in Bert. “Those men, or Skeel, especially, have been here lately.” “But they haven’t any right in our cabin--at least the cabin your friends gave us the use of, Tom,” objected George. “I know they haven’t, and that’s just where the trouble might come in. Those two men with Skeel look like ugly customers. If we cornered them in a cabin they had no right to enter, they might turn ugly. It’s best to go a bit slowly until we find out whether or not they are in there.” “That’s what I say,” chimed in Jack. “Not that I’m afraid, but I don’t want to run into trouble so early on our vacation. Of course it’s possible,” he went on, “that someone else besides Skeel and his cronies may have been here, or may still be here, for boots, with nail-marks like those on the sole, can’t be so very rare. But I’m inclined to think Skeel wore those,” and he nodded toward the marks in the snow. “I agree with you,” Tom said, “and we’ll soon find out. Let’s look about a bit before we rush up to the cabin,” he went on. Slowly the boys circled about it, gradually coming closer, to give those within, if such unwarranted visitors there might be, a chance to either make their presence known in a friendly manner, or take their departure. But there was no sign from the cabin of Camp No. 2, and, after waiting a little while, Tom and his chums moved forward. As they came nearer, they could see that some two or three persons had made a complete circle about the cabin, and had even advanced up on the rough steps that led to the front door. Whether they had entered or not was something that could not be stated with positiveness. “Well, the door’s locked, anyhow,” Tom said, as he looked at the padlock. “But of course they might have a duplicate key.” He drew from his pocket the one Sam Wilson had given him, and a moment later Tom and his chums stood inside the cabin. They breathed a sigh of relief. No one opposed them. Nor, as far as could be learned by a glance around the interior, had any uninvited guests been present. The place was in order, not as complete, perhaps as that of the first camp, but enough to show that it had been “slicked up,” after its last occupancy by the hunting party of gentlemen to whom Tom and his friends were indebted for the use of the camps. “Skeel and his cronies may have been here all the same, looking for us,” said Jack, as he stood his gun in a corner. “Why should they be looking for us?” inquired George.