“Gosh!” exclaimed Dill. “What was that? Listen, fellows! Shut up a minute, Harp!”
Comparative quiet fell and all stood motionless. Harper with a steak held above the pan. There was no sound save the lap-lapping of the wavelets. “I don’t hear anything,” growled Bull. “What did you think—”
But Bull didn’t have to conclude, for suddenly on the stillness there came the most appalling moan imaginable. It began low and deep and went on and up to end in a shuddering wail of anguish, dying away in the silence and darkness at last to leave the six boys staring at each other with wide eyes and tingling scalps. For a long moment after the sound was still none moved or spoke. Then Pete Brooks asked in a dry-lipped whisper:
“What is it?”
Bull shook his shoulders and laughed, but the laugh was certainly forced. “Nothing but a cow,” he declared loudly. “Lost her calf, maybe.”
“It wasn’t any cow,” protested Harper soberly. “Besides, it came from the lake. Maybe it was a loon!”
“Loons don’t make a noise like that,” said Charley Nagel, shaking his head and looking uneasily at the window.
“Well, whatever it was,” said Bull grandly, “it cuts no ice with me. What you holding that beefsteak up there for, Harp? Trying to cool it? Gee, any one would think you’d seen a ghost, to look at you!”
Harper smiled twistedly and put the steak back. From the next pan came the pungent odor of scorching onions, and he pushed the pan further from the fire and looked about for a knife. Then it came again!