“If the worst comes, I can fire three shots in succession. Andy will know what that means,” he reasoned. On previous trips to the woods the boys had arranged that three shots meant, “I am lost. Where are you?” A single shot was to be the answer—repeated, of course, as often as necessary.
Another hundred feet were covered, and Chet was looking vainly for one of the blazed trees, when an unexpected sound broke upon his ears.
It was an unusual and uncanny noise, and he stopped short to listen. It came from a clump of spruces to his left.
“Now, what can that be?” he asked himself. “I never heard a noise like that before.”
He listened, and presently the sound was repeated. To him it seemed as if some unseen giant were in deep distress.
Chet was not superstitious, or he might have thought he heard a ghost. He knew there must be some rational reason for the unusual noise, and he resolved to investigate.
“Anybody there?” he cried, as he raised his gun in front of him, and tried to peer through the snow-laden air.
There was no answer, nor was the peculiar sound repeated. With cautious steps he advanced toward the clump of spruces. Underneath all was now as dark as night could make it.
Again he paused, something warning him to be extra cautious. His nerves were now at a high tension, for he felt something unusual was coming.
An instant later it came. Through the snow and darkness Chet caught a momentary gleam of a pair of eyes shining like two balls of fire. Then a bulky form shot out of the darkness, and bumped up against him, hurling him flat. Ere he could arise, the form leaped over him, and went limping off, puffing and snorting as it did so.