“Rather queer sort of a shack,” remarked Jerry, as he sat down in a corner on a pile of rugs. “Seems to have been left suddenly. They didn’t even stop to take the dishes, and here is the remains of a meal,” and he pointed to some dried frijoles in one corner of the main room or kitchen.
“Perhaps the people who lived here were frightened away,” came from Ned.
“Well I’m tired enough not to let anything short of a regiment of soldiers in action scare me awake to-night,” said Jerry.
Under Bob’s direction supper was soon ready, and the travelers sat down to a good, if rather limited meal as far as variety went. There were no dishes to be washed, for they ate off wooden plates, of which they had a quantity and which they threw away after each meal. Then, after a good fire had been built on the hearth—for the night was likely to be chilly—the boys and the professor wrapped themselves up in their blankets and soon fell asleep.
Jerry must have been slumbering for several hours when he suddenly awakened as he heard a loud noise.
“Who’s there?” he called involuntarily, sitting up.
It was so dark that at first he could distinguish nothing, but, as his eyes became used to the blackness he managed to make out, by the glow of the fire, a shadowy figure gliding toward the door.
“Who’s there?” called the boy sharply, feeling under the rolled up blanket that served for a pillow, for his revolver. “Stop or I’ll fire!”
The shadowy figure halted. Then Jerry saw it drop down on all fours and begin to creep toward him. Though he was not a coward the boy felt his heart beating strangely, and he had a queer, creepy sensation down his spine.
“What’s the matter?” asked Ned, who was awakened by Jerry’s voice.