"What's down there?" he questioned. "What'd you find, Pal?"
The great dog turned toward Dan and wagged his tail as evidence of good will. But his hackles remained raised as he accompanied the boy into the cabin. The good smell of frying bacon perfumed the air. Standing over the stove, Jeff looked around questioningly.
"Isn't that bucket a load for you, Dan?"
"Nah! I can carry it."
Jeff grinned. Most boys were proud of their physical prowess and he had not offended Dan by offering to draw the water for him. He broke eggs into the sputtering skillet. Pal growled and Jeff turned again to look.
"What's ailing him?"
"I don't know. He must have smelled something he don't like. When he came up to me, he was running."
Pal, knowing that Pete Whitney was coming toward the cabin, retreated to the far end of the room and stood. Still bristling, he showed his teeth. Jeff was puzzled.
"What's the—?"
"Something's around," Dan said quickly. He looked out of the window. "Jeff! Pete Whitney's coming!"