“Someone or—something,” went on Tom, and his voice did not rise above a whisper. He moved slowly over toward the window.
“Here goes the glim!” Jack announced, and at once the cabin was darkened. It took but a minute, however, for the boys’ eyes to become accustomed to the change, and they saw moonlight streaming through the window toward which Tom was moving. The others followed him, walking softly.
“There he goes—it is someone!” hoarsely whispered Bert, and he pointed to a black figure stealing over the snow. It was plainly in sight, for the ground was deeply covered with snow.
“It’s a bear!” George burst out. “It’s a bear! Where’s my gun? Where do you shoot a bear, anyhow? I don’t want to spoil the skin. Say, where’s my gun?”
“Dry up!” ordered Tom sharply. “It isn’t a bear!”
“It is so!” began George. “Where’s my——”
Before anyone could stop him, or object, Bert had slipped to the door, opened it, and had fired his gun at the retreating black object.
“Look out!” Tom cried. “You might kill him! That’s a man—not a bear, Bert!”
“I know it,” was the calm answer. “I only fired over his head to scare him. Look at him scoot, would you?”
And indeed the black object that George had thought was a bear suddenly straightened up, revealing itself to be a man. He ran with fast strides toward the circle of woods that were all about the hunting cabin. The man reached the shelter of the black trees a little later, and was soon lost to sight.