The boys had proceeded but a short distance when a sound which startled them as no other could have done at that particular time reached their ears. It was the high, quavering, vicious call of the wolf pack!
The boys paused again and scattered, each one taking a few steps away from the common center. As for Gilroy, he squatted flat on the ground and covered his fat face with trembling fingers.
“Wolves!” he cried. “Oh, my God, wolves!”
While feeling sympathy for the man lacking entirely in physical courage, Ned could not restrain a burst of laughter.
“Is that Jimmie?” Jack asked in a moment.
“I should say not!” answered Frank. “Jimmie hasn’t got a tenor voice to that extent. That’s not Jimmie!”
“Then it’s that treacherous rat of a messenger boy!” Harry declared.
“Answer him, some one!” Frank advised, “and we’ll get our hands on him.” It was not necessary for one of the group to answer the call, for in a moment, almost like an echo, the answer came from behind the boulder where Jimmie had secreted himself.
“That’s Jimmie!” cried Frank. “Now do you suppose that little rat saw Norman before we heard the call?”
“It seems that he did,” answered Ned. “Jimmie rather favored the boy at first but now there’ll be a mixup if they meet.”