“If they ain’t they’ll soon be,” muttered George, who had overheard the question and took it upon himself to answer.
“Wonder how much longer this game’s goin’ to keep up?” grumbled Josh; “my right leg’s nigh paralyzed as it is, and I’m gettin’ a crick in my back, Jack, what’s the best word?”
For reply he received a low warning hist that somehow thrilled Josh, and possibly some of the others as well. Immediately every one fastened his eyes on the two bundles of blankets near the dying fire, as though expecting to see some upheaval in that quarter; but nothing of the kind took place.
“What was it, Jack?” whispered Josh, wondering why the other had given that low warning, when there seemed to be no sign of trouble in the hostile camp.
“Something moving over yonder in the bushes; watch sharp, to the right, now!” was what came from the Commodore.
“Gee! mebbe a wild animal goin’ to raid the camp for grub!” Josh suggested.
“More’n likely the same hungry guy that carried off that ham of ours, that’s what,” Buster was just heard to say, deep down in his throat.
Then they lapsed into silence again; though all this talking had been conducted in such low tones, that a short distance away any one would have taken it for granted that it could only be the night wind whispering through the branches of the trees overhead, not yet fully covered with the fresh green leaves that came with the spring.
Yes, there certainly was something moving over there, in the quarter which Jack had indicated. They could see the bushes beginning to bend again, but very slowly, as though the intended intruder tried to exercise great care, not meaning to arouse the sleepers.
Man or animal, they could not say immediately, for even when they first caught sight of the moving figure it was crouched so low that it could pass for either one or the other, in that uncertain light.