Then came the voice of July, speaking at a greater distance:
"Look at dat fox-squirrel!—skippin' round 'way up in de top o' dat cypress! Dat's what ail de dawgs."
Ted blessed the squirrel for the good service it had evidently performed by changing its position and immediately attracting the eye of those below because of the cypress's characteristically thin leafage.
"I reckon that's it," said Garter.
"It sho is," insisted July, "for dem boys is a fur ways fum yuh des like I tole you."
"Don't care how fur—I'll git 'em 'fore I quit," the angry voice of Sweet Jackson was then heard.
"Drive them dogs away from there and come on."
The dogs were called off, the voices became only a faint murmur, the noisy tramping through water subsided, and soon the ordinary quiet of the forest reigned. Recovering his wonted spirits, Ted laughed softly, but remained motionless for twenty minutes or more. He would have waited still longer but for his anxiety in regard to the whereabouts and fate of Hubert.
Climbing out of the hollow, he let himself down into the shallow water beneath the oak and whistled softly. He whistled again a little more loudly, and was then immensely gratified to receive a cautious response. Whistling softly, the boys approached each other and soon stood face to face. Then each quickly told his story.
"Yes, I heard 'em," said Hubert, "and I was almost too scared to breathe. I stayed up in my tree as quiet as a mouse. I was awfully afraid they'd get you as well as July."