The Alaskan Adventure by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

their meat supply outside in a shed?” Joe asked.
    Frank laughed. “Don’t worry, it won’t spoil. The whole outdoors is one big freezer compartment.”
    â€œI get it,” Joe said. “Now I see why Mona mentioned that saw. We’re going to need it to cut off the meat.”
    The Windman cabin still smelled of smoke. Frank and Joe went around it and found the shed. Joe pulled open the door, and they stepped inside.
    Frank held up the lantern and looked around. To the left, fur pelts were stacked, stiff and frozen, on a wooden crate. A two-man crosscut saw hung from a spike on the back wall. Other tools lay tossed in a big woven basket.
    â€œSo where’s the moose?” Joe wondered, peering around. “Do you suppose Mona sent us out here as a joke or something?”
    â€œI don’t think so,” Frank said. “She needs that meat for dinner.”
    â€œFine,” Joe said. “But where is it?”
    Frank held the lantern higher. “There’s a big hook in that beam,” he said. “It looks like that’s where the side of meat ought to be hanging. The only problem is, it isn’t.”
    â€œFrank,” Joe said, in a changed voice. “Frank, look!”
    Frank turned and looked. Painted on the plank wall with black paint was the rough outline of a heart. But this was no Valentine card. Protruding from the center of the heart was a wicked-looking butcher knife, the point driven deep into the wood.

8 News Travels Fast
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    Joe and Frank stared at the knife stuck in the wall. After a long moment of silence Joe said, “The Windmans are counting on that meat to last them until spring, aren’t they?”
    Frank nodded grimly. “Probably.”
    â€œWhat kind of rat would steal a family’s food?” Joe asked.
    â€œA two-legged rat,” Frank said. “But I don’t think he cares about the meat. He wants to frighten Peter and Mona by showing them how easily they can be hurt.”
    Frank went over to the wall, put his nose near the painted heart, and sniffed. “The paint’s fresh,” he reported. “At a guess, no more than acouple of hours old, unless the cold keeps it from drying.”
    Joe thought about that for a few seconds before saying, “We know someone who was over this way at about the right time: Gregg. What if he brought that poisoned fruit, then took the moose carcass?”
    â€œHe could have done it,” Frank agreed. “But so could almost anybody. The woods are just a few steps away. You slip in, do your dirty work, and slip away.”
    â€œÂ â€˜Slip away’? How much do you suppose a moose weighs?” Joe asked. “They’re awfully big, aren’t they? You’re not going to toss it over your shoulder and stroll off through town.”
    â€œThat’s a good point, Joe. Okay, we’re not talking about a whole live moose, which might weigh as much as a ton. Let’s say it’s a half or maybe a quarter of a dressed carcass. And Peter and Mona have been living off it since fall. Even so, what’s left must weigh a hundred pounds or more—maybe a lot more! Here, let’s take a look around outside. But watch where you step.”
    Even by the flickering light of the kerosene lantern, the tracks were easy to spot: two ruts about an inch wide, the distance between them about a foot and a half.
    â€œThat’s too narrow for a dogsled,” Joe pointed out.
    â€œRemember when Justine went to get water from the spring?” Frank asked. “She used a sledge she pulled by hand.”
    Joe felt his jaw drop in shock. “Justine! Frank, you’re not saying—”
    â€œOf course not,” Frank said quickly. “But what do you want to bet she left the sledge outside the cabin, where anyone could get it?”
    Joe knelt down in the snow to get a closer look at the marks left by the sledge. “Look, Frank!” he said.