"What's that?" asked the scout master, a little sternly, for, knowing the weakness of Bobolink in the line of practical joking, he suspected that the other might be up to some of his old tricks.
And Bobolink must have detected an air of doubt in the manner in which
Paul spoke those two words, for he immediately resumed:
"Honest Injun, Paul, I ain't foolin'! Say, do they have panthers around here? Because that's what I think it must be."
"Where'd you see it?"
As Paul put this question he was working his arms free from the folds of his blanket. When he lay down, more through force of habit than because he thought there would be any need of such a thing, Paul had placed his shotgun on the ground beside him. And no sooner was his right hand at liberty than, groping around, he took possession of it.
"Up in that big oak tree," Bobolink went on. "You watch where that limb hangs out over the camp and you'll see somethin' move; or I've been dreamin', that's all."
Paul did not have to twist his head very far around in order to see the spot in question. He watched it as the seconds began to troop along, until almost a fell minute had gone.
And Paul was just about to believe Bobolink must have been dreaming, when he, too, saw the bunch of leaves violently agitated.
Undoubtedly some tree-climbing animal was up there. Paul felt a thrill pass through him. Unconsciously, perhaps, his fingers tightened their grip upon the shotgun, which was apt to prove a tower of strength in case the worst that could happen came to pass.
Straining his eyes, as he partly lifted his head, Paul believed he could just make out a shadowy form stretched upon the large oak limb.