“Kape your bearin’s, lads,” called the old woodsman. “If so be the storm comes along with a boom it’ll puzzle ye to be sure av yer way. And by the same token, to be adrift in thim woods with a howler blowin’ for thray days isn’t any fun.”
When the scouts once got started they found that the air was particularly keen. Both of them were glad they had taken the precaution to cover up their ears, and wear their warmest mittens.
“Something seems to tell me we’re in for a regular blizzard this time,” Jack remarked as they trudged manfully along, at times bowing their heads to the bitter wind that seemed to cut like a knife.
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that turned out to be true,” Paul contented himself with saying.
They did not exchange many words while breasting the gale, for it was the part of wisdom to keep their mouths closed as much as possible. 167 Paul had taken note of the way to the spot where the camera trap had been set in the hope of catching Bruin in the act of taking the sweet bait.
A number of times he turned around and looked back. This was because he had accustomed himself to viewing his surroundings at various angles, which is a wise thing for a scout to do. Then when he tries to retrace his steps he will not find himself looking at a reverse picture that seems unfamiliar in his eyes.
In the course of time the boys arrived at their destination.
“Don’t see anything upset around here,” observed Paul, with a shade of growing disappointment in his voice; and then almost instantly adding in excitement: “But the bait’s gone, all right—and yes! the cartridge has been fired. Good enough!”
“Here you can see faint signs of the tracks of the bear under this new coating of snow!” declared Jack, pointing down at his feet.
Paul, knowing that he would not go for his camera until after broad daylight, had managed to so arrange it, with a clever attachment of his own construction, that an exposure was made just at the second the cord firing the flashlight was drawn taut.