Ten minutes’ brisk walk brought the boys to a point opposite a forked birch tree, that showed dimly white in the gathering gloom. Ned pressed his companion’s arm for silence. “The entrance is less than fifty yards beyond that tree,” he whispered. “Let’s circle around and hit the old road farther in.”
As noiselessly as two Indian scouts, the boys crept into the brush, and on hands and knees threaded the thickets until an opening in the foliage above their heads warned them that the wood-road lay close before them. In a moment Ned had dragged himself through the fringe of bushes and was peering to right and left along the shadowy track. For several minutes he lay motionless; then rose slowly to his feet.
“There’s no sign of anybody,” he said in a low tone. “Let’s work along to the slab pile.”
Without a word, Dave followed, and in a few moments they had crept into the shadow of the big pile which reared its irregular shape against the faint light of the sky, now rapidly fading into the darkness of night. A few rods to their left the outline of the shanty loomed dim for a time, but soon it had been swallowed in the velvety blackness.
“It’s darker than the inside of a cow!” growled Dave. “I can’t see half-way to the end of my nose!”
“Never mind about your nose,” chuckled Ned. “We’ll have to depend entirely upon our ears—unless somebody shows a light.”
For almost two hours the boys maintained their vigil, speaking but rarely and then in very low tones. Above their heads a rising wind was moaning through the tree-tops in an ever-increasing blast, which at times rattled the upper portions of the loosely-piled slabs.
“It’s raining,” grumbled Dave as a drop of water splashed on his cheek. “Confound the luck! ‘It never rains but it pours!’”
Moving with extreme caution, and not daring to use the small flashlight which he carried in his pocket, Ned felt about in the darkness till he had located several loose slabs. These he stood up against the pile in the form of a rough lean-to, which kept off some of the rain that soon began falling in a steady drizzle. Beneath this partial shelter the boys crouched, each devoutly wishing the other would suggest a postponement of the job, but neither willing to be the first to cry quits. Another hour dragged by, and then Ned suddenly shifted his position and laid a warning hand on Dave’s arm.
“What is it?” whispered Wilbur. “Did you hear something?”