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next to a longboat near the river. With another loud cry, he buried his face in his hands and fell forward.

5 Soft Ice Ahead
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    Frank and Joe set the cartons on the ground and dashed down the icy slope toward the riverbank. Frank scanned the area for some clue to what had happened. There was a crumpled tarp on the ground next to Hunter. It looked as if he had just taken it off the boat. What had he found to cause him such pain?
    When they were a few yards away, Joe called, “What’s wrong? Can we help?”
    Hunter looked up at them and pointed to the bottom of the longboat.
    Frank and Joe peered inside. The aluminum hull was riddled with holes from bow to stern.
    Hunter shook his head. “It’s no good to menow,” he said. “I might as well throw it away. What am I going to do come spring?”
    Frank estimated that twenty or thirty holes had been punched in the hull. “Who did this?” he asked.
    Hunter shook his head again.
    A crowd was gathering, drawn by Hunter’s cries. At the sight of the damage they murmured to each other. Frank couldn’t make out what they were saying.
    â€œI came down and took the cover off, and this is what I found,” Hunter said, staring down at the damage. “This boat is all I’ve got in the world. I depend on it for fishing, once the ice breaks up. How am I going to feed my family now?”
    Joe got down on one knee to study the destruction. “Frank,” he said, without looking up, “it looks as if this was done with a spike. The holes were punched from inside the boat. Look how clean the edges are.”
    Frank knelt down and looked at the holes. “You’re right,” he said. “Whoever did it had to take the cover off first. Pretty risky, unless he did it at night. And in that case, you’d think someone would have heard the hammering.”
    He straightened up and looked around. Aside from the general store, there were only two cabins nearby. One of them looked closed up, butthe other had a faint trail of smoke rising from the chimney.
    â€œMr. Hunter?” Frank said. “When was the last time you looked at your boat?”
    Hunter blinked a couple of times. He seemed a long way off. Frank guessed that he was thinking about the lean summer to come for him and his family.
    Frank repeated the question.
    â€œWhy, a few days ago,” Hunter said. “I don’t know . . . Sunday, maybe?”
    â€œYou took the tarp off, and it was okay then?” Joe asked.
    â€œThat’s right,” Hunter replied.
    Frank asked, “Can you think of any reason someone might want to harm you?”
    Hunter got to his feet. “I don’t like all these questions,” he said. “Everybody’s asking me something. Who do I think’ll do better in the Iditarod, Gregg Anderson or David Natik? What kind of salmon season do I think we’ll have this year? How do I plan to vote at the town meeting? And now you. It’s too much.”
    Frank and Joe stood up, too. “Who’s been asking you these questions?” Frank asked. He didn’t have much hope that he’d get an answer.
    Hunter shook his head. He picked up the tarp and draped it over the longboat. Frank couldn’thelp thinking that there wasn’t much point in protecting the ruined boat.
    The crowd of onlookers was beginning to break up. A couple of people came over to Hunter to talk about what had happened. The rest drifted back into the town. Frank noticed one woman go into the nearest cabin.
    â€œCome on,” he muttered to Joe. “It’s time for us to do a little detecting.”
    Frank led the way to the little cabin and knocked on the door. The woman opened it.
    â€œWhat is it?” she asked, looking puzzled.
    Frank introduced himself and Joe, then said, “We’re trying to find out what happened to Ralph Hunter’s longboat. Did you hear any hammering the past few days?