“Probably a deer,” he thought as he groped his way toward the little stream.
He had just ducked his face in the water for the second time when he again heard a stick crack. This time it was much nearer. He drew his automatic from his pocket and listened. Almost immediately the sound was repeated.
“That’s no deer,” he muttered as he moved noiselessly to the right.
Automatic in one hand and his flash light in the other he groped his way between the thick trees moving as rapidly as he dared. His idea was to approach the intruder from the side instead of in the direction in which he was moving. In this way he figured that he would stand a better chance of finding out who it was and remain undiscovered himself.
Stopping every few minutes to listen he could hear some heavy object moving through the underbrush a short distance to his left.
“He evidently is in no hurry,” he thought as he changed his course slightly toward the sound.
“I believe he’s getting farther away,” he thought a few moments later as he paused to listen. “Mebby it was only a deer after all.”
Two or three times more he heard the cracking but as it was farther away each time he soon decided to make his way back to camp feeling convinced that it was only some wild animal.
It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time he was back.
“Well, it killed an hour anyhow,” he thought as he once more sat down at the foot of the big pine.