“Well, he isn’t around, that’s sure,” remarked Bob, as he went outside, in the vain hope that he might see the professor coming along the trail. But there was only the whispering of the wind in the trees, and the tinkle of some distant waterfall.
“He’s probably off after some bugs,” observed Ned. “Of course we couldn’t expect to find him here. I’ll wager he’s only in long enough to get a meal, and then he hikes off again after that two-tailed lizard, a pink frog, or something equally absurd. He’s probably deep in the wilderness somewhere.”
“Then I guess the only thing for us to do is to wait here until he comes back,” suggested Jerry. “There looks to be room enough for all of us here, and we brought plenty of grub along.”
“We sure did!” chuckled Bob. He had seen to that.
“Maybe the professor’s hurt,” ventured Andy.
“What makes you say that?” asked Ned, quickly.
“Oh, I don’t know. You see, it’s so easy to get hurt, or lost in the woods—a bear might attack him, he might be bitten by a snake, his gun might go off accidentally——”
Andy was working himself up to quite a pitch of excitement.
“Here! You stow that kind of talk!” interrupted Jerry. “The professor never carries a gun—he’s as harmless a hunter as a fellow with a camera. Besides, there aren’t any bears in these woods now.”
“Well, something must have happened,” insisted Andy.