"It's all lighted. Oh, Mr. Channing! They've missed us!"
"Damn!" said the author.
At that moment voices reached them: loud, drunken voices, mingled with laughter, and a snatch of song.
"Why—why!" muttered Channing, blankly. "That can't be our cabin!"
Nor was it. They had trusted to the wrong landmark.
They turned and hurried down into the ravine again. But Channing stumbled, and the sound reached the quick ears of the mountaineers above. There was a shout, in a voice suddenly sobered.
"Who's down thar?"
It was followed by the sharp ping of a bullet.
"Good gad, but they're shooting!" gasped Channing.
"They certainly are," said the girl, with a giggle. "It must be a still or something, and they think we're revenue officers!"