Then he stopped short, and both he and Harry made a rush for the hut. A single glance around showed that their sudden fear was realized. The hut had been looted. Every one of their traps, including the sled, was gone! CHAPTER XXII. TRACK OF THE MARAUDERS. For the moment both Jack and Harry were dumfounded by their discovery. They stared around the hut, and then stared at each other. “What’s the trouble?” asked Boxby, pushing his way inside behind them, and followed by Andy and Pickles. “They have stolen the sled and all of our things!” burst out Jack, wrathfully. A shout of dismay went up. “Who did it?” “Where have they gone?” “Can’t we go after them?” “I can’t cook no supper widout a pot or a kettle,” added Pickles, dubiously. “And we won’t have supper until we have our things back,” returned Harry, quickly. “I’m not going to sit still and have my blankets and the rest stolen.” “Nor I! Nor I!” shouted the others. “Most likely it was tramps,” commented Boxby. “I wonder how many of them.” “Light up some torches and we’ll take a look around,” ordered Harry, and the suggestion was carried out with all possible haste. But the search, minute as it was, revealed but little. Every article of value had been carried off, the oven destroyed, and evidence was not wanting to show that the marauders had tried in several places to ruin the hut. “It’s a burning shame!” burst out Andy. “It was bad enough to steal the things, without ruining what was left.” “It’s a piece of maliciousness, that’s just what it is,” returned Boxby. “It looks like the work of a personal enemy.” “But we haven’t any personal enemies up here,” said Andy. “We left them behind in Rudskill.” “Ain’t it mos’ too dark to go aftah dem fellers?” asked Pickles. “It is dark,” replied Jack, “but by taking torches we can follow the footprints, I think. There is nothing else to do. We can’t go to bed without our blankets very well.” “Come on, there is no time to lose,” urged Harry, and, hanging up their deer meat and the heads and antlers, they started off, each with a blazing pine knot held aloft of his head. The track of the heavily-laden sled led across the creek, and off along the shore of Rock Island Lake. They counted the footsteps of three persons who had dragged the sled along. In several places the footsteps showed all around the sled. “That is where they had to stop to secure the load,” remarked Harry. “I suppose they loaded so hastily that it kept slipping off. See, here is one of the tin plates.” And he picked up the article from where it lay, half buried in the snow. The plate was turned over to Pickles, and a sharp lookout was kept for more of their belongings, which resulted in the finding of another plate, two knives, a fork, and one small tin kettle. “At this rate, we’ll find all of the stuff at the end of two or three miles,” observed Harry. “The careless, good-for-nothing fellows! how I would like to face them just now!”