"Now what are you goin' to do, pard? Don't be too rash. Remember what Mr. Stallings, said," and Thad laid a restraining hand on his chum's arm.
But Maurice was not to be daunted.
"Fall in behind me, then. I'm going up to the bushes and see for myself what it was. Ten to one it must have been a muskrat out of the swamp; or perhaps a fox, prowling around for his grub."
He cocked both barrels of the Marlin, and the act must have instilled new courage in the heart of Thad, for he immediately removed his detaining hand.
"All right, then; go ahead. If he jumps for you, poke the old gun in his face."
He stooped down and secured possession of a stout cudgel himself, as though he felt inclined to back up his comrade after a fashion.
In this manner they slowly approached the clump of bushes, where the frost had turned the leaves to rusty red color.
Maurice was on the alert for any sign of trouble. He even passed partly around the clump, without discovering anything to indicate the presence of an enemy.
When he had made sure that the bushes did not conceal a lurking figure, he turned to Thad with a grin.
"Went off in smoke, I reckon. A fellow who can see a hanging coon in a bundle of burlap strung up to a tree might imagine anything, it seems to me," he said a little sarcastically.