“Your troop has got a pull to be up here,” said Archie. “That’s ’cause they come from where Tom Slade comes from. They get things better than the rest of the——”
“Shh!” Wilfred whispered, stopping short and clutching his companion’s arm.
“What?” gasped Archie.
“Did you hear something?”
“No.”
“Stand still a minute,” Wilfred whispered; “shhh.”
For a moment neither spoke nor stirred.
“Look—shh—look at that tree,” Wilfred scarcely breathed. “Is that a big knot or what? Shh, will you! I think it’s somebody behind the tree. Let’s have your flash-light Now step quietly.”
The tree Wilfred had indicated was some yards distant and beyond it they could see the dark bulk of the three cabins. As they advanced, Archie felt his heart thumping like a hammer. Wilfred felt no such sensation, but it did not occur to him that perhaps his own treacherous heart was at its job again, making itself ready to be worthy of his fine spirit, ready to back him up and stand by him when the world should seem to be falling away under his feet, and the future should look black indeed.
They advanced a few feet stealthily. Then, suddenly a dark figure glided silently from behind the tree and as it moved a little glint of something white (or at least it was light enough to be visible in the darkness) fluttered close to it. In his first, quick glimpse, Wilfred thought it looked like a bird accompanying the spectral figure.