The sun was just rising over the hills, and it promised to be a fair day, with but little wind. Through the brush and trees the ice and snow glittered like silver and pearls, making the prettiest of pictures. The boys had their guns loaded, and before they came to where the trail moved down to the lake, Andy caught sight of a squirrel, and shot the pretty animal. “There; that will give us a taste of something else besides deer meat,” he said, with some satisfaction, as he hung the game over his shoulder. When the lake was reached, they halted as they had the night before, and gazed around in hopes of seeing something which might have escaped them in the semi-darkness. But not a clew came to view in the vicinity. All around was the glittering ice, that was all. “Let us divide up into two parties,” said Harry. “One party to go along the lake, and the other to go part of the way across, keeping an eye on the various drifts on the ice. The trail is bound to turn up somewhere before long.” “Supposing we get separated?” asked Boxy. “Fire a gun if you want to find the others, and fire twice if the trail is found,” suggested Jack, and so it was settled. Boxy, Andy and Pickles started off across the ice, while Jack and Harry continued along the lake. “It’s my opinion they came this way,” observed Jack. “It’s a long journey across the ice on foot.” “That’s just my opinion, too, Jack. Besides, if they were going to cross the lake they would have done it from the mouth of the creek, instead of picking a way through the snow and brush so far.” “I’ve been wondering if that ghost, as Boxy calls it, had anything to do with this,” went on Jack, slowly. “Perhaps. The plunderers might have thought to scare us away from camp. When they saw that wouldn’t work, they waited for us to go off on a hunt.” “It looks natural, doesn’t it? Well, let us hope we’ll clear up the whole affair before night.” On the two went along the lake, moving close to the shore, and examining every little cove that presented itself. Presently they came to another creek, about the same size as that upon which the camp was situated. It was comparatively free from snow. “They might have gone up this,” said Harry. “What do you think?” “Perhaps. But let us continue up the lake,” returned Jack. “Supposing you keep on, while I run up the creek a few hundred feet. If I see nothing, I’ll soon join you.” “All right.” Jack turned to the shore once more, and was soon out of sight. Harry proceeded up the stream, keeping his eyes open on both sides for anything that might look like the trail. He had scarcely moved onward a hundred feet when a low cry escaped him. Stooping, he picked up the top of a coffee pot. He recognized it as belonging to the outfit of the Zero Club. He had found the trail again! CHAPTER XXIII. THE COTTAGE IN THE WOODS.