“Clubs, fellows!” said Hogan, as he began to pull over the little pile of wood.
“Out with the fire!” sibilated Crauthers, “That’s what has attracted the thing.”
Stark grasped him.
“Let the fire burn,” he said. “Haven’t you read how it will hold real wolves at bay?”
“That’s no wolf!” said Hogan. “It may be a wildcat, but there are no wolves in these parts.”
By this time the boys had each secured a club. The wind had lulled, and silence lay on the woods. Once more the cry came to their ears, and this time it was even nearer. But now there seemed something strangely human about it.
“Listen!” urged Bunol.
He placed his fingers to his lips and blew the signal of the Wolf Gang, a peculiar whistle that cut shrilly through the night.
“You fool!” snarled Crauthers. “Do you——”
Then he stopped, for the signal was answered in a similar manner. Again the wondering boys looked at one another.