As Bart peered through the bushes, with his rifle ready to throw up to his shoulder, he was conscious of some movement in the underbrush on the other side of the spring.
“He’s made a circle, and he’s here ahead of me—on the other side,” thought the lad. “I think I’ve got him!”
With eager eyes he watched. The bushes continued to move and vibrate. Something seemed to be coming down to the edge of the spring. Bart’s nerves were on edge. His hands were almost trembling, but he controlled himself by an effort, and he raised his gun slowly to take aim.
He saw something brown moving amid the brambles. It looked like the head of a deer. Bart slowly and cautiously raised his gun to his shoulder. He drew a bead on the brown object.
A moment later, and just as the lad was about to press the trigger, there stepped into view a man! It was a man and not a deer that Bart had been about to fire at, and a cold chill came over him. He had paused just in time.
But as he looked at the individual whom he had mistaken for a deer he felt a second tremor of excitement, for, as he had a glimpse of his face Bart was made aware that the man was none other than the one about whom there was such a mystery—the man who had sneaked into the schoolhouse the night the diamond bracelet was stolen—the midnight visitor at the camp, perhaps.
At the same instant that Bart was aware of this the man saw him. He hesitated—made a gesture as if of despair, and turned to dive into the bushes. A moment later there came a sudden snow squall, shutting off from Bart’s view the man he had so nearly shot.