"Do you suppose he is alone?" whispered Sandy, presently.
"Let us try to see. Raise your head, inch by inch, until you can look over the tops of these bushes; but be careful," continued the other.
Back to back they started to do this, intending to cover the entire surrounding woods with a close scrutiny.
Suddenly there was an odd twanging sound heard. Bob knew instinctively that it was the recoil of a bow-string, and he dragged his brother down instantly.
Then came a heavy thud close by their ears. Looking around, the brothers saw a feathered shaft quivering, with its flint head buried in the trunk of a tree.
It was the first time in all their lives that either of them had been under fire. The mere thought that some human being was endeavoring to do them deadly injury caused a momentary thrill. But, in those early days, boys were made of sterling material; and, after that involuntary shudder, they faced the danger resolutely, with a spirit that would have well become their father.
"We must get out of here," whispered Bob, as he prepared to crawl along in the shelter of the bushes.
"But which way?" demanded Sandy, confused; for how were they to know just where the unseen enemy might be hidden?
"That arrow came from yonder; therefore we must turn the other way," was the convincing argument Bob advanced, and his brother immediately saw the logic of it.
Bob led the retreat, with Sandy trailing close at his heels. Each lad clutched his gun in a nervous grip, and strained his ears to catch the slightest suspicious sound near by.