THE POWER OF MUSIC
Dolph could not but watch the actions of his camp mate with considerable curiosity and satisfaction, at this stage of the game.
Teddy had had more or less experience in woodcraft, and long ago learned many of the lessons so essential in the make-up of a clever still hunter. To him the leaves of the forest spoke as eloquently as printed pages in a book did to the other canoe cruiser. He could read the language of the trail, and discover a score of valuable things, from signs that would never be noticed by ordinary eyes or at least deemed of no importance.
When an observing lad has spent considerable time in these Northern woods, the voices of Nature speak to him in the wailing of the wind whispering secrets as it stirs the branches of the pines; he hears another story in the thunder tones of the rushing rapids; the crash of the summer storm; the whisper of sunrise; the chatter of the little woods folks excited over his presence in their favorite haunts—he learns by degrees to match his wits against their cunning, and to discover every secret connected with their mode of living, so that the curtain of mystery is rolled away for his eyes, and he lives in a world totally unknown to many others of his kind.
Teddy had practiced this art of creeping silently through the woods, when stalking the timid deer, and perhaps also the lordly caribou over in Canada. He certainly had all the little wrinkles down pretty fine—at least Dolph thought so, as he followed in his wake, endeavoring the best way he could to imitate these noiseless movements.
So, foot by foot, and yard by yard, they drew nearer the strange cabin.
As yet not a sound had been heard, to indicate that the place had any inhabitant; though the light shining from the small opening that might be called a window, must be set down as conclusive evidence on that score, since lights ordinarily do not spring into existence without the aid of human hands.
Twice Teddy halted until his chum came alongside. Then he would whisper a few words in his ear, after which the forward movement would be resumed.
All at once both boys came to a sudden pause, and crouched there, listening to certain sounds that had broken loose.
Plainly these sprang from a fiddle—a violin is unknown by any other name than this, in the backwoods country, where the “fiddler” is always in great demand at the husking bees and barn dances.