"You came straight in to wake me up, of course?" continued Paul, wishing to figure on the time that might have elapsed since Bobolink left his post.
"Crawled right in, and we got back here in a jiffy; but you see it was no use when that jinx is on my trail, meanin' to loco everything I do. Now, I reckon if it'd been any other feller in the bunch, the critter'd just stood its ground, and I'd be vindicated. But me—I'm hoodooed of late, and can't do a thing straight."
"Listen!" said Paul, a little sharply, as though he had no sympathy with such talk.
They strained their hearing for possibly a full minute. Then Bobolink, who liked to talk, could no longer hold in.
"What'd you think you heard, Paul?" he whispered.
"A little rustling sound just alongside the brush you pointed out," the scout master replied.
"But you didn't get it again; did you?" urged the other.
"No. But that needn't be proof that something isn't there, and watching us, even if we don't glimpse his eyes," replied Paul.
"Oh!" ejaculated Bobolink, with a sudden sense of relief in his voice.
"You heard the rustling then; didn't you?" Paul demanded.