“I’d about concluded that either Nip or the wolves had got you,” Jack laughed, as Bob threw the wood on the floor in front of the stove.
“Thought I’d never find any,” he panted. “But I’ve got quite a lot cut up and I’ll bring it in while you’re getting dinner; but, for goodness’ sake, make it snappy. I’m hungry enough to eat one of those fish raw.”
“Our bill of fare is slightly limited as to variety, although the quantity is all right,” Jack laughed a little later, as they were eating fish and drinking coffee. “If I have to eat trout much longer I’ll be growing fins and a tail.”
“They say that fish is good brain food, and if that’s so you and I ought to carry off all the prizes at The Fortress next term,” Bob said as he helped himself to another cup of coffee.
They ate again about six o’clock, and an hour later they were sound asleep in their sleeping bags, Bob’s mental alarm clock, as Jack called it, set for three o’clock. It was some three hours later when Bob was suddenly awakened by the sound of someone trying to push open the door.
CHAPTER X.
JACQUES LAMONT.
For a moment he thought he must have been mistaken and it was nothing but a dream, but as he lay and listened the sound was repeated. He remembered that he had barred the door before going to bed, and now he thanked his lucky star that he had done so. As the sound was repeated, now with more force, he reached over and gave Jack a shake.
“S-s-s-h,” he whispered, as Jack stirred and was about to speak. “There’s somebody trying the door.”
“Perhaps it’s Nip,” Jack whispered as he sat up.
“Not likely,” Bob whispered back. “You have the gun ready and I’ll ask who it is;” and, getting out of his bag, he crept close to the door.