Taking turns, the boys rose several times during the night and replenished the fire. At best, the bough bed was none too comfortable, but toward morning both lads slept soundly for some time.
Awaking suddenly after this period of slumber, Sage lifted himself to his elbow and listened, impressed by the hazy conviction that he had been aroused by an unusual sound. The fire had sunk to a mass of coals and embers, from which emanated a faint glow that barely reached across the stone hearth of the fireplace. Beyond that dim gleam of light the interior of the camp was wrapped in dense darkness. The wind no longer roamed amid the treetops, and not even a breath came down the chimney to disturb the gray ashes in the fireplace.
Fred’s heart thumped annoyingly, while his ears were reaching out for a repetition of the sound that had awakened him; and, when he had begun to think it must have been a creation of his imagination or dreams, it came again.
It was like footsteps—stealthy, cautious footsteps, which, however, seemed to move a bit uncertainly in the darkness. It seemed like one or more persons walking in the woods a short distance from the camp and occasionally stumbling a bit, although moving slowly and with considerable caution. The sounds were receding.
“It must be some straying animal,” thought Fred.
Fainter and fainter grew the sounds. Once or twice there came a cracking, as of dead branches beneath a heavy foot, and at last the listening lad heard something that sent a shock through him. It was like the suppressed murmur of human voices, and was followed immediately by a low, soft, short whistle.
Sage grasped Hooker and gave him a shake.
“Hey? What is it?” mumbled Roy, awakened.
“Hush!” breathed Fred excitedly. “There’s someone prowling around this camp. Don’t make a noise. Listen.”
Breathless, they listened for a full minute, but now the woods seemed silent and lifeless, and not a thing could they hear.