“Not a trace of it,” replied Blake. “Old Hanson thought he knew where it was, but we tramped miles and miles, and never saw the smoke of their fires.”
“We’ll ask that constable the first time we see him,” added Jack. “He’ll probably know.”
“If he doesn’t we’ll find it ourselves,” declared Alice. “I’m not afraid—if we all go together—I mean we girls!” she quickly added.
The doings of the day were talked over, and plans made for both parties to go next day to the nearest store for some needed camp supplies. Then followed a delightful hour around the fire for which the faithful Wood Gatherers had provided plenty of fuel. There was the singing of some simple choruses, which they all knew, or in lieu, hummed. Stories were told and then came the farewells.
In the middle of the night Mrs. Bonnell was awakened by a queer, thumping sound that seemed to come from the space between the cooking and sleeping tents—where a canvas shaded a wooden platform, on which the table was placed.
“I wonder if that can be my ammonia-fox?” she murmured as she reached for her trusty little weapon.
“I think I’ll take a look before I fire,” she thought. None of the girls was awakened.
Cautiously peering out through the tent flaps, the Guardian saw a curious sight. She could not restrain a laugh, at the sound of which Natalie suddenly sat up on her cot.
“What is it?” she demanded in a whisper.
“Come and see!” answered Mrs. Bonnell. “It’s too odd—the poor creature!”