"Huh! Me? Scared?" responded Dutcher indignantly. "No, sir! Being scared isn't in my line. But the other fellows were tremendously scared. I told 'em, again and again, that the noises were wholly human, and that we hadn't any call to be afraid of any man who used his voice, instead of his hands, against us."
"Was Dick Prescott much scared?" asked one of the auditors, with a quick side glance at Dick.
"Was he?" repeated Hen. "Huh! But, after all, Tom Reade was the biggest boo——"
Here Reade could control himself no longer. His deep chuckle broke on the night air, causing Hen Dutcher to turn with a start.
"Go on, Hen!" Tom encouraged him. "Go on and tell all about it. I'll admit that I was scared. So were all the rest of our crowd. I guess, Hen, you really were the only brave one in the cabin when the blood curdling noises broke loose on us and spoiled our night's sleep."
"Well, I wasn't scared, was I?" challenged Dutcher.
Hen's eye roved until it rested on Dick's face.
"I don't know whether you were, or not," Prescott replied soberly. "I had too much of my own alarm on hand to notice just how you were acting."
"Well, I wasn't scared," Hen asserted vehemently. "And I'd like to see any one dare to say that I was."
"How did you come to get invited with Dick's crowd, anyway?" asked Hoof Sadby.