“Footsteps!” breathed Ned. “Put your ear to the ground and listen.”
Dave did so and in a moment there came to his straining senses the jar of a cautious tread. A twig snapped in the darkness, followed almost immediately by a harsh scraping sound accompanied by a faint squeak. “Somebody has pushed open the door of that shanty,” he chuckled softly, “I remember the sound of that scrape and the squeak of the rusty hinges. It’s lucky we didn’t pick that for a hiding-place!”
“Sh!” warned Ned. “Look!” and he pointed toward the shack from the single window of which a gleam of light had suddenly appeared. The light was quickly extinguished, however, only to be followed a moment later by a faint glow higher up.
“What do you make of that?” queried Dave, as he strove to pierce the thick murk.
“Somebody has lighted a fire in the stove. That’s the reflection above the stove pipe,” replied Ned. “He’s covered the window with something to shut off the light.”
For a time the boys watched the glow as it wavered above the pipe and then Dave sniffed the air eagerly. “Coffee!” he growled. “My nose is of some use after all. Mister Somebody is having supper. That means more crumbs for those black ants tomorrow.”
“Yes, and I’m afraid it means a long wait for us,” grumbled Ned. “If that fellow has time for a feed, he probably doesn’t expect anything to happen right away.”
“I can’t say I care a whole lot for this,” complained Dave after a long silence. “It’s raining harder than ever and the wind is driving it through these slabs. There’s a small cataract running down the back of my neck!”
“Same here,” replied Ned. “That fellow in the shanty has got all the best of us right now; suppose we sneak over there and try to get a sight of him through a crack.”
For once, action of almost any kind was welcomed by Weary Wilbur, and rising to their feet, the boys began to pick their way cautiously in the direction of the shack. Half the distance had been covered when high above the dull roar of the wind and the steady drumming of the rain there sounded the shrill wavering cry of a screech-owl. It came from a point near the entrance of the old wood-road and was followed at once by the scrape and squeak of the shanty door.