"Tell the story, Tom," said I.
"Oh, you get the old gentleman to tell it to you, sometime," replied Tom. "I can't tell it good. But 'twas real scarey and interesting. Something about a cow. The panther killed my grandfather's father's cow, I believe. The men were all away. It was in the winter time; and those two boys followed the panther's track away up into the great woods here somewheres and shot it. It's a real interesting story. You get the old gentleman to tell it to you some evening."
"We will," said Theodora. "I'll ask him the first night after we go home."
"My! Did you hear what an awful noise that was, just now?" exclaimed Kate.
We had all heard it—a singular yell, not wholly unlike the human voice, yet of ugly, wild intonation. Addison and Thomas exchanged glances.
"Queer what a noise a screech owl will make," the former remarked, after a moment's silence.
"Dear me, was that a screech owl?" said Theodora.
"Oh, I guess so," replied Addison carelessly. "They make an awful outcry sometimes."
Tom did not say anything, but he told me next day that it was a bear which had made that cry, only a little ways from the camp; and that he had winked to Addison not to tell the girls, for they were looking nervously about them, after hearing the "screamer" story.
It was not a cold night, for October; yet as the evening advanced the fire felt very comfortable.