RIDERS ON THE
LOST RIVER TRAIL
CHAPTER I
A MYSTERY OF THE NIGHT
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!”
“Eh? Wha—what is it?” muttered Hippy Wingate, rousing himself from a deep sleep.
“Listen, Lieutenant! There is peril in the air,” answered Ham White. “I don’t know where it is, but I do know there is trouble afoot, and that instant action is necessary. I don’t think it advisable to let the others of our party know, so long as there probably is no immediate danger.”
“Humph! You men of the forest make me weary. Everything is a mystery—a peril and so forth and so on. Ham, you’re a good fellow, but you remind me of Tom Gray—always looking for trouble. What is the big idea?”
Hamilton White placed his lips to Hippy’s ear and whispered. A little distance from them the camp was sleeping soundly. Not a sound disturbed the forest night save the faint whisperings of the tree-tops and the occasional twitter of a bird high up among the branches.
“You don’t say!” exclaimed Hippy, sitting up awake and thoroughly on the alert. “Are you positive?”
“Yes. It may be a matter of hours; then again minutes may cover the time.”