"Did you try to tickle them with your shot?" demanded Jerry.
"No; only meant to give them a little scare, and let 'em know we carried guns with us this time."
"I feel just cross enough to wish you could have punctured them a little—not enough to hurt much, you understand, for I'm not a savage; but they need a lesson, and that might have done the business," Jerry continued.
The camp soon quieted down, and there was no further alarm.
When morning came they found that no particular damage had resulted from the trick played by the town crowd that usually tagged after Pet Peters.
"I didn't hear Pet's sweet, melodious voice last night, come to think of it," remarked Frank, as they ate their breakfast and discussed the exciting events of the first night out.
"Nor I. Perhaps he was smart enough to keep silent and let the rest do the shouting. Anyhow, we're in about thirty feet of pretty good line," laughed Jerry.
"They took the one we had on old Peter, to keep him from straying, and made that tripper out of it. As you say, Jerry, this other is strange in our camp, and they must have fetched it along. It may come in handy; who knows?" said philosophical Frank, always ready to get the best there was out of troubles.
"And now it looks like we might have these 'varmints,' as old Jesse Wilcox, the trapper, calls them, on our hands, as well as the wonderful ghost mystery to solve."
"The more, the merrier, Will. Give me excitement all the time when out in the forest. It's quiet enough at home, and in school. Me for the merry life, and plenty of thrills," sang Bluff.