“That you, Ethan?” drawled Bob, as he opened his eyes. “Oh, that reminds me,” he added, as he hastily leaped to his feet, and grasping the revolver, rushed up to the front of the tent, where he repeated his frequent performance of the night.
“What ye doin’ that for?” demanded Ethan, in astonishment.
“Keeping the wild beasts away. Ethan,” he added solemnly, “we’ve been attacked. A fearful beast leaped on our tent in the night, and tried desperately to tear it into pieces and get at us to devour us.”
“Hey?” demanded Ethan, sharply.
“Yes. That’s just what he did,” repeated Bob, as the boys came out of the tent and joined him. “But we managed to shoot him.”
“Ye did, did ye? Well, where is he now? Show me yer beast.”
Bob silently led the way to the spot where they had left their victim. Ethan looked sharply for a moment at the body, and then with a snort of contempt, said, “Pish! Nuthin’ but a hedgehog!” and Tom, for the first time our boys had heard him since their arrival at the camp, laughed aloud.