“If he’s a dead shot,” Harold Tremaine was saying, “he must be getting quite a load of game, for that makes about the tenth time I’ve heard him fire.”
It was only a short time afterward when those in the camp suddenly looked up and exchanged significant exclamations.
“He’s shouting about something, Hugh!” cried Bud Morgan, scrambling to his feet.
“Sounds as if he might be in trouble of some kind!” added Harold Tremaine, turning a little pale, for he was new to all this sort of thing, and unused to excitement.
CHAPTER VII.
THE FROG HUNTER TRAPPED.
As usual Hugh was quick to do his thinking.
“One of you pick up that rope!” he called out. “Bud, you and Ralph come along with me.”
He jumped over to a tent, and when he appeared again, they noticed that he was carrying the medicine case with him.
“A rope!” exclaimed the bewildered Harold. “Then Hugh thinks Billy’s fallen down into some hole! But we didn’t run across anything like that, did we, Arthur?”
“Leave it to Hugh; he knows what he’s doing,” replied the other scout. “That rope may be for something else.”