‘Whippo-wil! whippo-wil! whippo-wil! Tap, tap, tap!’
Now a whip-poor-will may sing its song at night, but it does not usually perch upon a window-sill and lightly tap to attract attention, and this was borne home to Ephraim when for the third time the cry was repeated, followed by the mysterious rapping.
Ephraim’s heart gave a great leap. ‘It can’t be!’ he said, in the silence of his brain. ‘It can’t be! I reckon I must find out, though.’
He crept noiselessly round the cabin and peered beyond the angle of the wall in the direction of the window.
The space at the back of the hut was darker than that at the front, for the nearness of the woods threw an additional gloom; but Ephraim, staring into the dark, could just make out a figure standing at a little distance from the window with outstretched arm, which rose and fell rhythmically, and at every movement came the light tap, tap of a switch upon the sill.
‘Whippo-wil! whippo’——
‘Luce!’
‘Grizzly!’
There was a rush through the darkness, the shock of a violent meeting, and panting, trembling, almost sobbing with joy, the two friends clung to one another in a fervent embrace.
‘Luce!’ whispered the Grizzly, the words falling in broken syllables from his lips. ‘What ye doin’ hyar? I thought ye would be safe and fur away.’