“There it goes again!” exclaimed Nan.
Flossie and Freddie shrank closer to their mother, and even Nan seemed a little afraid, but Mr. Bobbsey only laughed.
“That’s a hoot owl—or a screech owl, I don’t know which,” he said. “Anyhow, it’s only a bird with feathers and big, staring eyes. And, very likely, it’s looking down at us now and wondering what we’re doing in his woods.”
“Is the owl looking at us now?” asked Freddie, climbing away from his mother and venturing to the door of the car.
“Very likely,” his father said. “But the chances are you can’t see it. Owls keep pretty well hidden when there’s any daylight left.”
“Well, the light is fast fading,” said Mrs. Bobbsey. “It’s getting dark very fast, Dick. And unless we get to camp soon—well, you know what may happen,” she said to her husband. “Do you think you can get the motor to going?”
“I think so,” he answered. “Bert, please come here and hold the light for me.”
Glad to be of help to his father, Bert arose from the ground, to which he had slipped when the sudden noise of the owl startled him, and went to hold the flash lamp. As he sent the beam moving about, in order to direct it just where his father wished it, there was a whirr and a flutter in the almost leafless branches of the trees overhead, and Flossie cried:
“There it is!”
“Yes, that’s Mr. Owl,” laughed her father. “He came up to look at us, but he doesn’t like our bright light, because it hurts his eyes. So he flew away. Now come on, Bert, and we’ll get the motor to running again. They’ll be anxious at Cedar Camp if we don’t get there soon.”