They sang snatches of songs, they tried out different steps and were as free as the air about them; until they heard something queer.
“What’s that?” Nancy asked the question first.
“I wonder,” replied Rosa.
“Sounds like someone groaning.”
“A man, don’t you think?” Rosa’s voice had dwindled to a whisper.
Again came the noise interrupting their questions. This time there was no mistaking it. Someone was groaning.
“Let’s run back; we’re away out in Baker’s Woods,” said Rosa with deep concern. “And there’s the road. We’ll take that,” at which both girls turned to the well beaten path.
“Halt!” came the command. “Right about face!”
“Garry Durand!” exclaimed Rosa. “You mean thing!”
“Not to be an old tramp or something?” jeered the boy, who had stepped out into their path and was enjoying the little fright he had given them. “I suppose,” he went on, “you are disappointed. A real bandit would have been more fun.”