Then the log seemed to become alive. It rose into the air, and a man appeared. The log had been only a shell concealing this man.
More surprising than all, the man was John Caribou, the guide!
Parker, rushing toward the guide, whom he did not recognize, however, in the semi-gloom, was struck by a piece of the shell which the guide hurled at him and staggered back, dropping the gun he seemed on the point of lifting.
John Caribou darted into the bushes and was swallowed from sight almost instantly.
A shot was fired by some one, and there was a hasty, pursuit, which amounted to nothing.
Merriwell was standing in a half dazed and wholly uncertain state of mind as the unsuccessful pursuers came back. What did it mean? What was Caribou doing there? Why had he run?
He could not answer his own questions.
Then he was made aware by the whirlwind of excited talk that no one else knew the man was Caribou. He had been nearer the log than any other person except Hans, and so had a good view of the man’s face and form, which the others had not.
“Caribou!” he inwardly gasped. “Shall I speak out or hold my tongue for further developments. I can tell it later if I think it wise; but if I tell it now, I can’t withdraw the statement should there become need. I’ll keep still.”