Undoubtedly some one was sawing a bow across the catgut strings of an instrument and it was evident from the chords resulting from this effort that the player was no greenhorn.
Teddy pinched the arm of his chum when the latter came alongside, and whispered, “Amos.”
He had heard the woods boy scrape a bow more than a few times, and recognized his “touch” instantly. Indeed, Teddy had more than once regretted that he had decided against the other bringing his old fiddle along. With it in camp Amos would have been enabled to make many an evening around the fire seem more sociable.
Apparently then, Amos must have discovered some sort of old instrument in the cabin occupied by Crawley, the trapper and poacher. Overtaken by an irresistible inclination to make music, he had eagerly pounced upon the same, tuned up, and started in.
The music stopped several times, and a twanging followed. Amos evidently was having more or less trouble in making the old fiddle behave.
Somehow the sounds thrilled Teddy, and he found himself wondering what the result would be. Would the two scoundrels, possibly in hiding close by, rush upon the scene, and demand that the noise stop forthwith?
After all, why should they do this? It was an object with them to have the other two boys believe that Amos was being suitably entertained, so that with suspicions wholly disarmed they would walk innocently into the trap?
Ah! now the woods boy seemed to fancy that he had tuned the old violin as well as might be done; either that, or else he could no longer hold his desire to play under bonds.
With a sudden swing of the bow he started into “Money Musk,” always a prime favorite among the loggers in the winter camps, who, in their times of leisure, danced for an hour, and usually to some of these good old tunes.