“O my, if Tad were only here, we’d soon know a thing or two!” exclaimed Willis.

“Now, boy, listen!  Don’t go home and spoil all this business.  Keep still about it until to-morrow, when we can get at the records and find out for certain just what is what.  Will you do that?” questioned Mr. Allen.

“I’ll tell my mother,” replied Willis, “and to-morrow I’ll go with you.”

The trail was winding back and forth through a great park of aspens.  On every side were prospect holes, remains of old cabins, and places where the wilderness was again reclaiming her own after men had spent their time, money, and energy attempting to force her to give up her gold.

At the top of the hogsback that over-looked Bruin Inn the fellows sat down to rest.  They were back in familiar territory, now, and the cabin quest was nearly over.

“Of course, the very first thing to do,” Ham was saying, “is to get in stone and get our fireplace built before the frost comes.  It will be a simple matter—­just throw down stones from the mountain; they are flat slabs and will lay up very easily.  We’ll use that big, flat stone at the end as a foundation, and run the chimney up outside the house—­a real big, life-sized one, too.  And we want a grand old-fashioned crane in the grate, and andirons of stone, and a big cement hearth.”

“Going to do all your cooking in the fireplace?” asked Chuck.

“Not on your life,” put in Fat.  “We’ll bring up our old camp stove, the one we had on the trip last summer—­it’s a dandy.”

“I’ve got the only stunt, though,” said Ham.  “Let’s build a great big bed on the rafters that run from wall to wall.  We’ll just cut a lot of saplings and lay them in close and support the bed from the roof.  After it has about two feet of balsam boughs on it, it will be a choice roost, I tell you that.  I’m going to be architect and boss carpenter of that job.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Allen gravely, “but it’s not a fireplace, an aerial bunk, or a place to eat that I’m thinking of.  There is no use putting our time, effort, and money into this place unless we can take care of at least twenty fellows at a time, and how can we do it?”

“The eating won’t be any trouble,” advised Fat.  “They will get enough to eat some way—­I always do.”  “We’ll build an addition,” suggested Phil, “a bunk house addition.  That will be easy; we can build it out where that old back porch is, can’t we?  And say, talk about great logs, what’s the matter with those aspens right there ready for us?”

“We could buy tin dishes, but where is the money coming from?  That is the main question,” said Mr. Allen.  “Money,” snorted Ham, “that will come if we’re in earnest, dead earnest.  How about that circus?  How much money do we need, anyway?”

Mr. Allen drew out his note-book, and made some rapid calculations.  “Well, the very least that you can do with, fellows, is two hundred and fifty dollars.”