He did not look at the two standing there. Perhaps he did not know they were there at all. Or did he? Their motor had been shut off far down the lake. He might not have heard it.
However that might be, he did not bestow so much as one glance upon them. Instead, for a space of ten seconds, he looked down through the scrub timber that lined the lake’s shore, then strode resolutely some fifty paces away. And now for the first time Curlie noted that some creature was moving there.
With the snow whirling and eddying about him, it was impossible for the boy to distinguish objects plainly. As he stood there watching that strange, powerfully built man walk from his cabin toward the moving object at the edge of the scrub forest, many questions raced through his mind.
Who was this man? Was this truly the hiding place of the mysterious pilot and his band? If so, what then?
At this point he thrust a hand inside the cabin to draw forth his bow and his quiver of razor-pointed arrows.
“Safety first,” he whispered to Jerry.
“Absolutely.”
Again his mind was filled with questions. What creature was this moving there in the snow-fog? Was it a human being? He doubted this. Had it been he who had produced those strange cries of distress? He could not know.
And now, as the man, axe in hand, approached, the mysterious creature reared himself to his full height. Curlie caught his breath. He was taller than the man. When he lunged forward, as if to seize the man, something appeared to hold him back. All but losing his balance, he leaned far forward.
The man struck at him. The stroke fell short. The next instant, recovering his poise, the creature struck out with surprising speed.