Who, indeed? The boy had spoken more wisely than he knew.
CHAPTER VI
SMOKEY JOE’S BLUE BEARS
Johnny awoke with a start. What had wakened him? He could not say for sure. He had a feeling that it had been a human voice, perhaps a shout.
Propping himself up on one elbow he listened intently. There came no sound save the long-drawn distant howl of a wolf. “Must have dreamed it,” he murmured as he drew deep into the caribou-skin bed.
The night was cold, bitter cold. It was dark. Like chilled white diamonds, stars glistened in the sky. “What a change a few hours can make,” he thought. They were sleeping in the mysterious Bill’s shelter, he and Lawrence.
Why were they sleeping in this cheerless shelter? Warm beds awaited them at home. When one is young he does not need too good an answer for the thing he does. Both Johnny and Lawrence were born scouts. They loved the sharp tang of cold on their cheeks, followed by the quick glow of a campfire. The smell of wood-smoke, deer steak broiled over coals, dreamy hours just sitting before the fire, not talking, just thinking, all these were a joy to them. So they liked to get away for a night. Bill’s camp was a convenient place.
Johnny did not fall asleep at once, instead his mind was crowded with dreamy thoughts.
Perhaps Bill was a gold prospector. Perhaps he had discovered gold. Then when he returned to this camp, they might all go tramping away to find the spot and stake out claims.
“That would ruin the settlement,” he told himself. “People would desert their dreams of making homes for brighter, more illusive dreams of wealth. And yet—” What did he wish? He could not tell.
When they had retired for the night the moon had been shining, a bright fire gleamed before their shelter. Now all was gloomy and cold. Should he rekindle the fire? “No. Too chilly,” he shuddered. “Wait till morning.”