There these provisions remained when, earlier than usual, the party turned in, and stretched their tired limbs to rest, lying down, as they had done before when sleeping under canvas, with all their garments on save coats and moccasins. Whether Uncle Eb forgot his “m’lasses,” or whether he purposely left it without, there not being a spare inch of room in the small tents, no one then or afterwards inquired.
As a result of the jolly intimacy that had sprung up between the two companies during the few days when they had all things in common, the boys disposed of themselves for the night as they pleased. Neal turned in with the doctor, Royal, and Joe, the four stretching themselves on the evergreen boughs, with their feet to the opening of the tent, and their rifles and ammunition within reach. Of course the Winchesters were empty, it being a strict rule that firearms should not be brought into camp loaded.
The younger Sinclairs, with Cyrus, Dol, and Uncle Eb, occupied the other tent.
It seemed to Neal that he had hardly slept one hour,—probably it was nearer to three,—during which time he had been dreaming with vague foreshadowings of the final and crowning sport of the trip, the grand moose-stalking, and of Herb Heal, the mighty hunter, when he was awakened by a shrill scream just outside the canvas. He started, with his heart going whackety-whack. The cry was sudden and intensely startling, appearing twice as loud as it really was when it broke the pathetic stillness of the brûlée, where not a tree rustled or twig snapped, and the night wind only sighed faintly and fitfully through the newly springing growth.
Again sounded that startling screech; and yet again, making a dreary, piercing din.
“By all that’s funny! it’s another coon,” gasped Neal; and he gently pinched the shoulder of Joe, who lay on his left.
“Joe!” he whispered. “Wake up! There’s a raccoon just outside the tent. I heard his cry.”
The guide was awake and alert in an instant. So, too, was Dr. Phil.
“What’s up, boys?” asked the latter, hearing a murmur.
“There’s a coon close by,” said Neal again. “Listen to him!”