“Well, we can’t do anything along that line this 72 trip,” Jack told him. “So say what you’ve got on your mind to the lady, and let’s clear out. These woods belong to her this afternoon, and we’ve got no business here.”
“I don’t mean to waste any more of my precious breath on the silly beast,” grumbled Steve, as he turned his back toward the spot where the unseen enemy lay concealed in the scrub.
Jack headed toward the open space along which they had formerly been walking. He had been wise enough to keep this in mind when trying to circumvent the obstinate feline enemy that refused to let them pass. Once they found their trail, and it would be an easy matter to follow it toward camp.
They had lingered longer than either of them seemed aware. This fact was presently brought to their attention by the growing gloom of the woods around them.
“Why, Jack, the sun has gone down, I do believe!” exclaimed Steve, suddenly.
“No, it isn’t time for it to set yet,” his chum advised him. “We can’t make sure of it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if a bank of heavy clouds has risen in the west, and hidden the sun behind it. One thing certain, we’re going to have the fun of tramping several miles through a dark woods.”
“Well, so long as there are no rattlesnakes around this section of country, that won’t make much difference with me,” Steve assured him. 73 “Yes, and I might add I hope that mother cat is the only specimen of her race up here, too. It would be tough on us to run across another holdup, so we’d be between two fires.”
It grew constantly darker. Undoubtedly Jack must be right about the heavens having clouded over in the west. Steve found another source for worry. This time it did not partake of the nature of animal foes.
“Say, wouldn’t it be a joke on us now, Jack, if a regular old drencher came on, and soaked us to the skin? I’m listening in expectation of hearing the mutter of thunder in the distance. After all, this wonderful day seems bent on bringing us face to face with a number of queer happenings. There, was that a growl of thunder then, or could it be another of those queer blasts we heard before?”
“Neither, I reckon, Steve. I think it was only the wind rising, and making a moaning sound among some treetops. I’ve heard it call out in a way to make you think some poor fellow had been caught under a falling tree, and was being slowly crushed to death. Yes, there it goes again, you notice.”