When the boys returned, each with a back-load of balsam tips for bed-making, they were astonished to find a cozy bough-house ready for them. The delicious aroma of fried bacon rose from the pan which Ben was shaking over a bed of glowing coals. Hastily throwing their boughs inside the shelter, the two hungry young hunters sat down to supper.
That night they made a big camp-fire, for the autumn air was chill. As the flames leaped and danced and threw a circle of orange-colored light into the dark, somber woods, the lads sat on a great log and listened attentively to Ben, who told them tales of the forest.
Finally the fire died low and the blackness crept in upon the little group before the shelter. Ben rose and declared it was time to turn in. By the aid of the lantern they made their beds of boughs, rolled themselves in their blankets, put out the light, and soon drifted off to sleep.
George was awakened by the hooting of an owl in a tree close by, and lay for some time listening to the mournful serenade. He heard the deep, heavy breathing of the guide, and knew he was slumbering soundly. Ed did not stir, and he was sure that he, too, was far away in the “land of nod.” The bird continued its dismal hooting; and then, as the fire flickered into new life for a moment, an idea seized the waker.
George rose and slipped noiselessly from his blankets. Then he felt around until he had secured his rifle, and, once in possession of it, he stole quietly out into the darkness.
The owl ceased calling, and the sleepy young hunter strained his eyes in an effort to locate it. Then again came the mocking call, and it seemed to the eager youth as he stood there peering aloft into the dark that the uncanny bird was actually laughing at him.
The fire again flared up and sent its flickering shafts of light high into the surrounding tree-tops. This was the opportunity for George to get his shot. Boldly outlined on the limb sat the owl. George took quick but accurate aim and pulled the trigger as the owl started to vacate its illuminated perch.
The report of the rifle reverberated through the silent woods like the crash of thunder. Awakened by the noise, Ed and the guide sat up just as the owl crashed through the branches and sailed headlong into the lean-to. Its heavy body struck Ed squarely in the face and tumbled him over backward with the force of the blow.
“What in tarnation has happened?” cried Ben, leaping from his blankets and grabbing the lantern.
“There’s something in here!” yelled Ed, rushing from the shelter. “Where’s George? He’s gone!” he cried, in alarm.