"And I've got a dreadful fear," remarked Will, sighing, "that the poor fellow's been caught under a falling tree. So many went down last night. I'll hear that terrible crashing every time I wake up for a long time to come. It haunts me, just because I imagined Jerry out in it all."
Toby here banged the big spoon on the empty frying pan. That was a welcome sound to a set of ravenous boys, and they quickly assembled around the rude table upon which the black chef was placing heaps of flapjacks, flanked by steaming cups of fragrant coffee.
Uncle Toby did not seem to relish being left alone in the camp again; but there was nothing else to be done. Frank gave him some advice as to what he should do if any wild beast invaded the place; and also how he could threaten any of Andy's crowd should they show up with hostile intent.
Then the three boys started off, meaning to head in a direct line for the distant camp of the old trapper.
"What if we don't find him there?" asked the skeptical Will.
"Wait till we get to the river before trying to cross. I reckon we'll be apt to find some traces of him there. And even if he was caught out in the woods in that storm, that's no sign he was hurt or killed. Jerry knows enough to get in out of the wet; and depend on it he found shelter somehow, somewhere."
So Frank buoyed their spirits up in his accustomed cheery way. One could easily see that he belonged to the optimist family, and never looked on the gloomy side of things.
They had not gone half a mile away from the camp before they discovered some one moving through the bushes ahead.
"There he is!" exclaimed Bluff, eagerly, as he raised his hand to his mouth, as if about to give a "cooie."
"Hold on! I don't believe it is. There, you see, it's a man, and a hunter, too, I expect, for he's carrying a gun," interrupted Frank.