"Right here in my two fists, Maurice."
"Well, hang to 'em tight till we get away from this ha'nted grove. Ghosts don't mind rain none—an' he's liable t' be prowlin' out. Say, can't y' whistle a bit, so's it won't be so pesky lonesome?"
Billy puckered up his lips, but his effort was a failure. "You try, Maurice," he said, "I can't jest keep the hole in my mouth steady long enough t' whistle."
"Gosh! ain't I been trying," groaned Maurice. "My teeth won't keep still a'tall. Maybe I won't be one glad kid when we get out 'a here."
For half an hour they groped their way forward, no further words passing between them. The heavy roar of the rain on the tree tops made conversation next to impossible. The darkness was so dense they were forced to proceed slowly and pause for breath after bumping violently against a tree or sapling. They had been striving for what seemed to both to be a long, long time to find the clearing when Billy paused in his tracks and spoke: "It's no use, Maurice. We're lost."
Maurice sank weakly down against a tree trunk, and groaned.
"I guess we've struck into the big woods," Billy informed him. "Anyways, the trees are gettin' thicker the further we go."
"Gee! Bill, there might be wolves an' bears in this woods," said Maurice, fearfully.
"Sure there might but I guess all we kin do is take our chance with 'em."
"Well, I'd rather take a chance with a bear than a ghost, wouldn't you Bill?"