"What's that?" whispered Hubert.
"Mus' be a pant'er," was July's whispered response.
The cry was heard again, more mysterious and startling than before. Then July bolted up the slope and was followed by the boys into the more open pine woods where the moonlight outlined all objects within their near view. July wanted to build a fire, but Ted would not consent to such imprudence, and finally it was agreed that they sit down with their backs to a large pine and watch until daylight.
All was now quiet and gradually they recovered from their fright. It was balmy spring weather, but they felt the chill of the night air. With a view to their greater comfort, July rose and tore down a couple of armfuls of Spanish moss that thickly wreathed a near-by blackjack thicket. When their legs were covered with this they were warm enough, but now found it increasingly difficult to sit upright and alert. Soon drowsiness overcame July, his head dropped on his breast and he began to snore. Ted roused him several times only to see him relapse into insensibility a few moments later.
Soon Hubert also was asleep, and, after watching for perhaps an hour longer, Ted himself succumbed. Later, as he struggled to rouse himself and opened his eyes, he saw that the moon was low and concluded that all was well. As he drifted back toward dreamland he thought he heard a yelp or two from distant dogs, but was too benumbed by drowsiness to give heed. Possibly the dogs of the far camp had started on the trail of some animal, but what could this matter to the three sleepers under the pine? This half-thought itself was soon gone and the boy lay still, undisturbed by even a dream.
When Ted awoke it was daylight, and the dogs were leaping about him and barking. Several men were at hand, too; and the one nearest, who looked down at the sleepers with a triumphant grin, was Sweet Jackson.
They were caught! And what else could they have expected? The events of the night leaped forth from the boy's memory to shame him. If only they had not been such cowards and sleepyheads!
"Don't hurt them boys! You can't blame 'em for tryin' to get away," called Mitch' Jenkins sharply, as Sweet Jackson began kicking July to wake him.
Ted hurriedly wakened Hubert and they both rose to their feet, turning away their indignant eyes from the severe kicking and cuffing bestowed upon July before he was allowed to rise.
"Thought you'd give us the slip along with them boys, did you?" shouted Sweet. "I'll teach you to give notice before you quit yer job."