At noon-time they stopped and rested for more than an hour, and ate the cold lunch that had been provided. It was warm, and consequently no one felt sorry for the chance to lie in the shade.
Frank afterwards swung around in a half circle. He kept his bearings all the time, and professed to know accurately just where they were, and in what quarter the camp lay.
"For what's the use of claiming to be a woodsman," he told Bluff when the other looked a little incredulous over something or other, "if you don't keep track of your direction? I feel sure that as the crow flies Cabin Point lies over there, right beyond that tree with the feathery crown."
About three in the afternoon all of them owned up to feeling a bit weary.
"But I reckon we must be getting within a mile or so of the lake," Jerry suggested. "I'm saying that partly because I've noticed how Frank has swung around, and is heading in the direction he pointed out when he told of our camp lying in that quarter."
"You hit the nail on the head when you say that, Jerry," commented Frank; "for we're going to strike the old trail before another ten minutes passes."
"Meaning the one that leads to the lake from Aaron's place, eh, Frank?" continued Jerry, with a sparkle of expectancy in his eyes.
"That's right, Jerry," he was told quietly.
"Then I hope—" began the other, stopping suddenly, with half-opened mouth, to listen, for just then there came to their ears a half-muffled sound that might be the scream of a red-headed woodpecker up on some rotten treetop, or anything else for that matter.
Will and Bluff uttered exclamations indicating that they recognized the cry. Even Frank looked serious, while Jerry was plainly excited.