itcases and firearms."

"Where in the world are we going to place them?"

"If we put the suitcases in, we'll surely have to walk!"

"Oh, we'll stow 'em in somehow," declared Gif. "You fellows don't know
how to load a boxsled."

"I know what we can do!" cried Jack. "Let us get a few loose
packing-case boards and stand them up around the back of the sled. We
can place the boxes against them, and then pile the suitcases on top,
and the tops of the boards will hold them in. The guns can go in
anywhere."

"That's the stuff!" said Spouter and he and Gif and Andy hurried back to
the store to get the boards and arrange them as suggested.

In the meantime, Jack, Fred and Randy hurried in the direction of the
railroad station to get the six suitcases and the guns which had been
left there. They found the crowd had thinned out somewhat, although
quite a few people were still present.

It did not take the three lads long to find the six suitcases, and,
armed with two each and with all the guns, they trudged back to where
they had left the boxsled. Then the suitcases were piled up and tied
fast to the upright boards and to the boxsled itself, so that they might
not be jounced off. The guns were placed in the bottom alongside the
boxes.

"Now then, pile in, and we'll be getting to the Lodge," cried Gif. "I
can tell you fellows I am mighty anxious to see the old place, to see if
it looks like it did when I was here last."

The youths were just stowing themselves away on the sled when there came
a cry from out of the darkness, and three fellows came hurrying through
the snow from the direction of the railroad station.

"Hi, there! Stop!" called out the foremost of the trio. "Stop, I tell
you!"

"Why, it's Gabe Werner!" exclaimed Randy. "What can he want of us?"

In a moment more the big bully was beside the sled, and Glutts and
Codfish followed him.

"Thought you were mighty smart, eh?" cried Gabe Werner angrily. "Another
minute, and I suppose you would have been gone!"

"What do you want, Werner?" demanded Jack.

"What are you fellows doing in this neighborhood?" questioned Fred.

"What we are doing here is our business," answered Werner sourly. "What
I want of you is my suitcase."

"Your suitcase?" queried several of the others.

"Yes, my suitcase! Oh, you needn't play the innocent! I know you've got
my suitcase somewhere on this boxsled. But you're not going to get away
with it. Hand it over, or I'll call a po