“I felt something on my ankle—and then I heard several groans.”
“Vos somepody call me?” asked Hans, sleepily. “It can’t pe morning yet, it’s too dark.”
“We didn’t call you, Hans.”
“Hello, what is it?” And now Fred roused up. “What is going on?”
“We don’t know,” answered Sam, who had been sleeping behind him. “We are trying to find out.”
Dick had gone to a post of the tent. Here a box of matches had been placed in a holder and he took one out, struck it, and held it up.
“Why, Tom is gone!” he cried, seeing that the place his brother had occupied was vacant.
“So he is!” murmured Sam. He raised his voice: “Tom! Tom! where are you?”
There was no reply to this call, and all in the tent gazed at each other questioningly. Then the match went out, leaving them in darkness as before.
“I don’t like this,” muttered Dick, and he made his way outside, followed by the others. Fred had loaded a shotgun and he caught up the piece. Hans walked to the smouldering fire and threw on some dry brushwood which soon caused a glare.