“Jeepers!” Brad muttered. “If they see that the bushes were pulled away from the path, they’ll be suspicious.”
“Mack and Chips took care of that. They put the brush back in place. The only thing that might give us away unless we’re seen, are footprints. And it’s too dark to make them out now.”
“Listen!” Dan warned, grasping Brad’s hand. “I can hear someone coming up the path now.”
“Duck!” Red advised, taking shelter in the thicket.
Brad started to follow his example, then thought of something.
“That crate of pheasants!” he whispered to Dan. “Help me with it.”
Dan could not guess what the Den Chief intended to do, but there was no time to ask questions. As Brad carefully swung open the door, he lifted out the crate.
“Easy, so those birds don’t start squawking,” Brad cautioned. “Shift it into the bushes.”
With Red’s help, Dan lifted the crate back out of sight. Meanwhile, Brad had closed the door of the lean-to.
The approaching footfalls and murmur of voices now were very close.