When the dishes were piled away they sat around the fire, enchanted by the red magic which emanates from glowing embers and the darkness closed in more tightly. There were no stars on this night and there was even a little oppressiveness in the air, as though it was charged with something not altogether pleasant. Not wishing the boys to dwell on subjects which would worry them Ted and Buck kept the conversation going rapidly and they talked of football and baseball, camping and canoeing.
But Plum was the trouble maker. His mind reverted to things which the leaders wished to avoid. His eyes roved around the dark camp.
“This camp could easily be haunted,” he remarked, patting an instant stop to the cheerful conversation.
“Who believes in ghosts anyway?” snorted Drummer.
“Nobody with any sense,” retorted Plum. “But just think of this place in the old days, when the Black Riders were meeting here to plan out raids on the British. There must be something scary about a place like this.”
“Never mind any such talk about foolish things, Plum,” called Ted, sharply. “This is a fine place and everything around is as it should be.”
Hard on the heels of this statement there came a sound which made the faces of the boys, old and young, blanch with fear. A wild, dismal howl rose on the air, seemingly overhead, and echoed in a sobbing wail as it was tossed to the mountains. The silence which succeeded was almost as bad as the shuddering shriek.
CHAPTER VIII
A GRIM FIND EXPLODED
The silence lasted for what seemed to be a long moment and then Buck and Ted sprang to their feet. A dozen tongues were unloosed and an exciting chorus went up, in which uneasiness prevailed.
“What in the world could that have been?” Buck asked Ted, as they peered into the darkness beside the camp, in the direction from which the sound had seemed to come.