But at that instant there was a noise that seemed to come from behind the cabin. It was a loud noise.
"What's that?" cried Tom.
For a moment his two chums were so startled that they could not answer. Then, as the strange sound came again, Chot said:
"It's just a horse whinneying!"
"The junk man's horse," added Rick.
And so it was. They saw the animal a moment later, tied by a long rope to the back of the log cabin. The horse looked up and stopped chewing a mouthful of grass he had just pulled. He had whinneyed as he heard the footsteps of the boys and their voices. Perhaps the horse thought his master was coming to give him a drink of water or take him to a stable.
However, the junk man's horse went to cropping grass again when he saw that the boys were evidently not coming any nearer to him.
"Ruddy isn't here," announced Rick, looking across the fast-dimming meadow back of the log cabin. Night was falling rapidly now, for the long, summer days were at an end, and autumn would soon give place to winter. "My dog isn't here!" and there was a catch in Rick's voice that sounded as though he were going to cry; but he didn't.
Again Chot was walking around, leaning over close to the ground. Suddenly, out near the place in the fence where the bars had been taken down, to allow the wagon to be driven in, Chot lighted a match.
"He's been here!" he cried, pointing to something in the moist earth. There was a patch where the grass, from the side of the highway, had grown partly over the road. It was a spot seldom touched by horses, autos or wagons. And here the earth was damp because, not far away, was a trickling rill of water. "He's been here!" exclaimed Chot.