So Tubby determined that he would build the fire, and have everything warm and comfortable against the return of his chums. He could shut and bar the door; yet, and—Rob evidently did not mean to take his gun along with him (thinking two would be quite enough), so there would be that to depend on, if any danger threatened.
It took the trio but a part of a minute to get ready, so eager were they to be on the move. They hurried out of the door. Tubby watched them depart, standing in the open doorway. How weird the lantern did look bobbing along at the side of Rob. Tubby wondered what sort of discovery they would make. If some one was in trouble, could it be his uncle who, on attempting to return to the logging camp alone, had fallen and broken a limb? Or, on the other hand, had some woodsman cut himself severely with his ax, and weak from loss of blood, fallen on the road to the camp, able only to weakly call for help?
No matter what it turned out the very thought of some one being in need of help thrilled honest Tubby, who would have “walked his legs off,” as he often declared, to render assistance. Further the bobbing lantern went. The murmur of his chums’ voices, too, died away in the distance. Suddenly he could no longer glimpse the light, and all was dark and mysterious beyond. Then only did Tubby deign to go in and close the door after him, being careful to make use of the handy bar that nested in the sockets on either side.
He built up a roaring fire, because somehow, the cheery crackle of the devouring flames felt like company to him. They had an abundant supply of good firewood, some of which Tubby had himself gathered from around the former lumber camp.
Tubby picked up Rob’s gun and sat looking into the fire, doubtless seeing all sorts of queer pictures there, as boys sometimes will. Evidently his thoughts were on other things, for after a while he approached the exit, unfastened the bar, and opening the door a little stood there listening, oh! so eagerly.
That was a real owl crooning to his mate now in the big hemlock over the way, although at first Tubby thought it might be the same sound they had heard before. He wondered whether they had been “fooled,” and if it would turn out to be a fool’s errand that took his chums and Big Zeb forth on that mercy trip.
Tubby had to chuckle, proudly remembering that it had been himself who had suggested “owl,” though Andy instantly made fun of him for so doing. The joke would be on Andy then, should it eventually turn out that way.
Hearing no further sound from those who had gone away, nor a repetition of the supposed cry for help, Tubby reluctantly closed the door, put the bar in place, and taking his seat again before the fire, resumed his vigil.
Meanwhile the three were making their way through the woods. The darkness was not intense, and possibly they could have gotten along quite well without the lantern. Nevertheless, none of them was sorry for having it; more than one stumble was spared them on account of it.
They had noted well the quarter from which the faint cries had come, and were now heading in that direction. All was still around them, save for the rustle of scurrying little feet in the dried pine needles, as perhaps a fox on the prowl for his supper slipped out of the way; or possibly it may have been a mink, for there was some sort of stream close by, which emptied into the river down which the logs had been sent when the big spring drive was on.