"Guess I must have been away off, and it was only a hoot owl after all; but I thought I heard some one cough!" the tall scout declared.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that way, because it's getting on toward time for him to show up, if he means to come along to-day," said Elmer.
"And now that you mention it," added Toby, "I remember Uncle Caleb does have a sort of cough. That was one reason he took to the woods, for he said it was going to add ten years to his life, living in the open, winter and summer, and eating the plainest kind of food."
After that they began to watch more closely than ever, and also listened carefully to catch a repetition of the sound that Lil Artha believed he had heard.
The great woods in their white snow mantle seemed to be deathly quiet. The air had become far less bitter, and in the sun it was thawing slightly. Occasionally some branch would manage to dislodge its burden of snow, which was apt to rustle through other branches on its way to the ground. Away in the distance those crows were cawing again, as though disputing some lucky find, or holding a council of war concerning some contemplated movement in search of new feeding grounds. Beyond these little breaks the silence remained profound.
All at once Elmer gave a low "hist!"
The others had caught the same sound, and as it was repeated again and again they began to believe that some one must be approaching from the very quarter in which Elmer had said Uncle Caleb was apt to come.
"What's that queer scraping, shuffling noise mean, Elmer?" whispered Lil Artha.
"I bet you I know," spoke up Toby, also in a cautious tone; "snow-shoes, and my uncle is wearing the same. How's that for a guess, Elmer?"
"You're right that time, Toby; and there he comes!" was the scout master's reply.