“That’ll be fine!” exclaimed David.
“We’ll do all th’ huntin’ we can in daylight,” said Indian Jake, “and of evenings get our stretchin’ boards in shape for the time when we’ll need ’em. And I expect there’ll be some pa’tridges—”
Indian Jake suddenly paused in his work to listen. He had but a moment to wait, when there broke forth startlingly near a heart-rending howl. It rose and fell in mournful cadence, dying finally in a long-drawn “Woo-oo-oo,” so near that it sent the blood tingling in shivering waves up the spines of the boys.
VIII
ANDY’S BEAR HUNT
“Wolves!” said Indian Jake, resuming his cooking with unconcern. “They must be the other side of the little river, or they’d smell our smoke. The wind’s blowin’ up from that way.”
“Are they like t’ trouble us?” asked Andy anxiously.
“They’ll keep clear of us, never fear,” declared David stoutly. “I’d like t’ get a shot at un once.”
“They’re likely under cover o’ th’ woods,” said Indian Jake. “But you might have a look and see.”