For another hour they waited, now talking in whispers and then watching the sky hardly knowing whether they hoped the moon would reappear or stay hidden. But it remained clouded over and there was a feeling in the air accompanied by a soft sighing of the trees which they knew indicated rain.
"It's twelve o'clock," Bob whispered.
"Then let's go."
"I wish, Jack, that you'd stay here and let me go alone," Bob said anxiously.
"I thought we'd settled that question some time ago. We stick together tonight."
"But——"
"There are no more buts now than there were then. Come on, let's go."
Had it not been for Bob's keen sense of direction they might have started in the wrong direction as they had nothing else to guide them. Even as it was Bob was not quite sure that he was right until he saw through the trees the dull glow of the dying camp fire. Foot by foot they crept on hardly daring to draw a full breath and stopping every two or three feet to listen.
Soon they could hear the deep breathing of sleeping men and now and then a loud snore caused an impatient movement on the part of some more silent sleeper. Presently they were on the edge of the clearing and, although the embers of the fire were barely glowing, they could distinguish, on the opposite side, what seemed to be several good sized tents. So near as they were able to judge they were some thirty feet away and Bob drew Jack back as he whispered:
"We'll have to get around on the other side. She's probably in one of the tents. You saw them, didn't you?"