"My t-t-trap s-s-sprung!" gasped Toby.
"But what ails the beast that he don't let out a few howls?" demanded Steve, who was clawing desperately under his blanket, trying to find where he had placed his handy gun at the time he lay down.
"That's the funny part of it," Max declared; "if you've got your gun by now, Steve, let's crawl out and see what's doing."
The three of them hastened to do so, not knowing what they might see once they reached the open. Bandy-legs had as yet not stirred, and it really looked as if he meant to keep his word when he declared that nothing short of an earthquake or a cyclone would disturb him, once he got asleep.
As soon as the others huddled outside, and tried to focus their blinking eyes on their surroundings they discovered several things.
In the first place it had apparently not rained as yet, for the ground seemed to be perfectly dry. Then again, the fire had burned low, for it was giving only an apology of a light, and this flickered, and died down at intervals.
Max knew what should be the first duty, and stepping toward the fire he threw a handful of small trash on the coals. Immediately a flame sprang up, and the camp was fairly well illuminated.
Of course the boys all stared in the quarter where Toby had set that wonderful trap of his. If the hickory sapling had not been set free it would still be seen bent in the shape of a huge bow; but their first glance showed them that this was not the case.
"It's s-s-sprung!" said Toby, huskily.
Steve was holding his precious Marlin double-barrel gun so that he could raise it instantly and take aim.