"Jeemses River!" he gasped.
"Never turn your back on an unknown danger," cautioned the young man serenely. "Be ready to meet it."
"If you're turned t'other way you c'n git a quicker start if you want to run," suggested Jim Borum, bracing himself with a fresh chew of tobacco.
"What time is it?" asked Wicker Bonner.
Anderson Crow squinted up through the leafless treetops toward the setting sun; then he looked at the shadow of a sapling down on the bank.
"It's about seven minutes past five—in the evenin'," he said conclusively. Bonner was impolite enough to pull out his watch for verification.
"You're a minute fast," he observed; but he looked at Anderson with a new and respectful admiration.
"He c'n detect anything under the sun," said Porter with a feeble laugh at his own joke.
"Well, let's go up and ransack that old cabin," announced Bonner, starting toward the willows. The crowd held back. "I'll go alone if you're afraid to come," he went on. "It's my firm belief that you didn't see anything and the noise you boys heard was the wind whistling through the trees. Now, tell the truth, how many of you saw it?"
"I did," came from every throat so unanimously that Jim Borum's supplemental oath stood out alone and forceful as a climax.