CHAPTER VIII.
WORMING THE TRUTH FROM A WHINER "Let me in--quick!" demanded a voice.
"Move on!" ordered Dave.
"Whoever they are, they can break in through the windows, at any rate," muttered Harry Hazelton, in a voice that was just a trifle unsteady.
"We have legal right to occupy this cabin," called Dick through the door.

"No one else has any right to be here." "I know that," answered the voice, "but let me in before I freeze!" To the amazement of some of the others, Dick Prescott raised the bar and swung the door open.
In came a figure--that of a boy.

His cap was pulled down over his ears, and a big tippet obscured most of his face.

But Dick grasped him by the shoulder as the youngster started to enter, followed by a heavy swirl of snow.
"What in the world are you doing here, Hen Dutcher ?" Dick demanded.
"Yes! What are you doing here ?" chorused the rest.
"Lemme get near the fire ?" begged Hen, in a choking, sobbing voice.

"I'm nearly frozen." "Don't shut that door yet," called Dan, moving forward.