Of course, as field captain, Lil Artha had the right to make changes himself, but he wanted advice from the pitcher, with whom he worked in common for the good of the team.
When they came to the spot where the short cut through the woods began Elmer turned into the path. Lil Artha had insisted on taking over the package that was going to Mr. Bailey, and as the trail was exceedingly narrow in places Elmer was compelled to step ahead.
He kept turning his head as he listened to the arguments advanced by his comrade, and occasionally made a reply.
They were now in the midst of the Bailey woods, known all over the region as the finest and most extensive grove within some miles of town. On this warm August morning it was cool under those big trees, and one of Elmer's reasons for taking the short cut now became apparent, since the dusty road promised a hot walk as well as a much longer one.
Squirrels barked as they played among the branches above; birds whistled, crows flapped their wings and cawed solemnly at being disturbed in their caucus; a timid rabbit darted out of a patch of brush, stopped to observe the intruders, and then bounded away as though not very much frightened; for this being close season the report of a gun was as yet an unheard thing in Bailey's woods.
All at once Elmer came to a sudden stop, so that Lil Artha, intent on the point he happened to be arguing at the time, almost ran into his comrade.
"What's the matter—stub your toe, or get a bug in your eye?" he asked, as he clutched the package tighter to prevent its dropping to the ground.
"Not a bit of it," replied Elmer; "but what in the world do you suppose that queer sound can be?"
Now that his attention was called to it, Lil Artha also detected the noise which had attracted his chum's notice.
"What d'ye think it could be, now?" he asked, turning a look of wonder on Elmer.