"Yes," said Thad, whirling his shillalah around in a lively way, as a token of what he meant to do in case of an emergency.
By the time they reached the spot where the trees joined branches across the dimly defined road both boys were in somewhat of a feverish state of apprehension. They looked at each hoary old trunk as if they believed every tree might conceal a crouching enemy, ready to leap out and attack them.
Yet, strange to say, neither of them once thought of craning their necks in order to survey what lay above.
Perhaps, had Thad done so, he might have received more or less of a shock just about that time.
"Hark!" exclaimed Maurice, pulling up.
"That was a shout, wasn't it?" demanded his chum, his eyes seeking those of the other instantly.
"I'm dead sure it was, and not an owl," replied Maurice.
"And it came from ahead there; didn't you think so?"
"It certainly did. Listen, there's more of the same kind. Now what d'ye make of all that?" muttered Maurice.
"Somebody's coming this way, for I can hear the sound of running. Say, perhaps it's the coons he told us about, the outlaws that live in the swamp! Mebbe the sheriff's posse has stirred 'em up like a hornet's nest, and they're on the jump!"