That moan again! Every time a gust of wind came, the dim, weird sound trembled along the night.
The moon was shining brilliantly now. Danny stood staring at the haunted tree.
All at once he crept forward, sharply intent on something.
What was that straight black line against the sky? Where did it come from?—that haunted tree?
Another moment and Danny was at the foot of the ghostly pine-tree, staring upward at the crisscross of its naked branches.
There was no swinging dead man there, but there was something—at the top!
Danny dropped to the ground and retreated a little on all fours for a better view-point. 'Way up, two parallel black bars rose against the sky.
A scout must keep his head!
Now, no boughs of a tree ever grew that straight! And what were those orderly black lines which extended from one bar to the other?
That moan again!—or—or was it the sound of a wire, played upon by the wind?