“Oh, then it ran away, did it?” sneered the unbelieving Monkey.
“Just what it did,” asserted Billy.
“Did you see it, Billy?” asked Hugh, determined to sift this midnight alarm to the bottom while about it.
“Why, Hugh,” Billy went on to say, “I had a little trouble getting my cover away from my face, for I’d snuggled down in the same to keep my head warm. But as sure as I’m standing here, Hugh, I saw the bushes moving over there, like some terrible animal had gone that way. Let’s throw some stones and scare him off!”
“No need of that,” said Hugh, with a chuckle, as he picked up a club and then started directly toward the quarter pointed out by Billy.
“Take care, Hugh, or he might get you!” warned Monkey, at the same time casting about for the duplicate of the cudgel the patrol leader had taken as a weapon of defense.
“Shoo!” cried Hugh, waving his arms vigorously as he approached the bushes.
As though that cry and the accompanying movement had broken the spell of silence there came a whole chorus of grunts both big and little. There was also a great scurrying of feet, together with squeals that could have but one meaning to the scouts.
“Pigs!” gasped Billy, as a mother sow followed by half a dozen little porkers started off in a panic, rushing pell-mell away, and followed by the mocking shouts of Monkey Stallings.
“So that’s your tiger, is it, Billy?” he demanded as he prepared to once more crawl into his coverings; “Well, you certainly have got the liveliest imagination of any fellow I ever met. The idea of taking a poor old mother hog with her litter of suckling pigs for a monster trying to carry you off.”