“Listen and see if you don’t hear a bell ringing!” whispered Terry.
Jim listened, and in spite of himself he felt his flesh quiver. The mountain was dark, the wind fitful, and the fire was a dull red. From off in the distance the sound of a bell was heard, a bell that clashed and rang without rhythm. The sound was far away and very faint, and when the wind blew with a slight increase in force they lost the sound.
“That’s funny,” murmured Jim, propped on his elbow.
“What do you suppose it is?” whispered Terry.
“I haven’t the least idea. I don’t know where there could be a bell around here. It might be possible that there is a village nearby and for some reason or other they are ringing the town bell.”
“Maybe. Shall we go down, follow the sound, and see what it is?”
“I don’t see why we should,” Jim argued. “It might simply be a wild goose chase. The sound is coming from the south, and maybe Ned and Don will investigate. I guess we had better stay where we are.”
“I guess you are right,” Terry agreed, throwing some wood on the fire. “Back to sleep we go.”
Jim followed Terry’s advice. The red-headed boy dozed and woke up, staring at the sky and moving restlessly. The sound of the bell had stopped and he closed his eyes and once more dozed off. He had slept lightly for perhaps an hour when he woke up, his senses alert.
There had been a sound near the camp. The horses were moving restlessly and Terry raised himself on his elbow and looked into the shadows. The fire had burned low again and he could not see far. He debated whether to wake Jim or not, and then decided not to.