“But sixty feet,” objected Nat. “There’s no bird living with a spread of wings like that. It’s out of the question.”
“Here’s the evidence,” spoke Sam obstinately. “You can see for yourself.”
“Sixty feet spread,” murmured Jack. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
But there was no doubt but that the marks in the snow were those of wings, and, as Jack paced the distance from tip to tip, they proved to be over sixty feet apart.
“Maybe the men have discovered some prehistoric monster,” suggested Will, “and are trying to subdue it so they can exhibit it. There used to be monsters as large as the marks left by this thing, whatever it is.”
“Yes,” admitted Jack; “but they disappeared from the earth ages ago. Only their fossil remains are to be found now.”
“But might one not be alive, by chance, in some big mountain cave?” asked Nat.
“I don’t know,” spoke Jack with a worried look. “It has me puzzled, fellows. I don’t know what to think.”
“Let’s go back to camp, tell Long Gun about it, and bring him here to-morrow to see it,” suggested Sam.