“I guess Long Gun is getting tired,” observed Jack. “Well, of course we don’t want to kill just for the sake of killing, so I think we will take a few days off.”
The weather continued fine, being clear, and not too cold, while there was no deep snow to hamper the movements of the members of the gun club, though there were several light flurries. The lads went out on short trips, Will riding the horse assigned to Budge, for the latter was not a very enthusiastic sportsman, and would rather remain in camp, stretched on his back, chewing gum, than go after deer or mountain sheep.
“Well,” remarked Jack one night, about a week after the last hunt, “I think we’ll go out again to-morrow and try to fill up the cupboard again. Supplies of fresh meat are running low.”
“Good idea,” commented Nat. “Maybe you can get another ram with horns to match your first pair.”
Jack was successful in this venture, for after a long day’s jaunt he got a fine shot, just at sunset, bowling over a large ram. They took the head and horns back to camp, leaving the carcass to be brought in the next morning, having first taken the precaution, however, of tying the choicest portions high in a tree, out of the reach of marauding animals.
As they were all gathered about the camp fire that night, discussing the events of the day, Jack suddenly held up his hand to insure silence.
“Hark!” he exclaimed. “There’s that queer sound again.”
In the air over their heads was the rushing of great wings, while there was a throbbing as if some mighty beast was passing over the camp.
“Wow!” cried Long Gun, and he made a dive for the tent.
“That’s it!” said Nat softly. “I wonder if we shall ever solve the mystery?”