“What’s the trouble, Phil?” asked Garry. “Are there snakes in the shack or are you just having a nightmare? Whew!” Garry had no need to ask any further questions.
The nocturnal visitor was nothing more nor less than a polecat, that little animal of the woods about the size of a cat, but commonly called a skunk.
Phil retained his presence of mind, and reached to the bottom of his bunk and hauled out one of his heavy shoepacks. With a well directed aim he heaved it at the unwelcome little intruder, which at that moment was near the door. The force of the blow carried the animal out into the night, and then the boys hopped out of their bunks and seized their clothes. Keeping a wary eye, they dashed through the door and out of the way. The animal by this time was scampering away.
Going back to the shack was almost out of the question, for he had left his unmistakable scent behind him.
“There goes my night’s sleep all shot to pieces,” exclaimed Phil in an aggravated tone. “First I go on a wild goose chase to hear a plot and hear nothing, then this comes up, and blooie, there is goodbye to rest. Bet you I take a nap this morning. Wonder if that smell will evaporate or will we have to build a new shack. Also there is going to be a door on the next one. I don’t want any more night visitors like that chap.”
“Hush a minute,” whispered Garry. To the ears of the boys, trained by their work in the woods to catch the slightest sound, came the soft noise as of someone walking towards the bunkhouse. In a moment Garry was flat on the ground, wiggling along as does an Indian on the war path in a manner that the boys had often practiced when they were Scouts.
He was back in about five minutes. The others were all curious to know what had made him act in such a mysterious manner.
“Someone was prowling about, and just a moment ago went into the bunkhouse. I could hear him when he dropped his shoes as he got ready to crawl into the bunk. Here’s what I think. That wood pussy may have wandered into the shack all by his lonesome, but for my part I think it is the first event in a campaign to make things so unpleasant for us that we will cut short our visit and go away,” whispered Garry.
“They couldn’t have picked on anything much better to make it unpleasant,” answered Dick. “What will we do now?”
By this time the first faint streaks of dawn appeared, and in a little while the camp would be astir.