The lone camper, benighted and forlorn, peered around him on all sides. At first he could see nothing beyond the glow of his own fire, which intensified the weird shadows of the forest; but he could hear the shouts and the ringing tramp of a horse's hoofs on the stony ground. He raised his voice in answer to the call.
"This way! Ki-i-o! Here I am!" he yelled excitedly. "Is that you, Tom?"
In a minute or two, as his eyes became accustomed to the pitch darkness beyond the firelight, he beheld the flicker of a lantern shining among the tree-trunks. Simultaneously, he heard the snorting of a startled horse. He stood up, leaning against his rock, and gave a peculiar throaty call that ended in the name "Ke-ee-no-o"—-and then, to his delight, the intelligent old horse responded with a loud whinny of recognition.
The next moment three shadowy forms, those of a man on horseback and two others on foot, detached themselves from the enveloping darkness and advanced into the light of Ralph's campfire. One of the unmounted searchers carried a lantern.
They were Tom Walsh,—-on Keno,—-Jack Durham, and Tom Sherwood.
"What in 'tarnation's the trouble, lad?" demanded Tom, as soon as the searching party had exchanged greetings with Ralph, fervently overjoyed to see them. "We've been looking for you ever since three o'clock this afternoon."
Ralph explained the object of his quest.
"I got 'em, too," he added, pointing proudly to the two eagles. "But when I started to go home, without Keno, and tried to take a shortcut through the woods, I got lost somehow; and besides, I sprained my ankle, so I can't walk. I just had to wait for somebody to come after me. I hope mother hasn't been awfully worried."
"Well, she wasn't exactly what you'd call calm!" replied Tom. "But the doc is there at the house now, with her; she might be lots worse. Does your ankle hurt bad? Can you ride home?"
"Sure I can! Let's start right away—-unless you fellows want to rest. You must be tired."