"Those great hunters most likely use an oil-stove," put in another. "Listen! Aren't they coming this way, fellows?"
Such, indeed, seemed to be the case. Various sounds indicated that a party was approaching through the woods.
"The 'Ramrods' in retreat, I'll bet," said Bob, with a chuckle.
His words were scarcely spoken before several dark forms emerged into view, coming directly toward them.
"Halloa, there!" bawled Nat's familiar voice. "Are you all alive?"
When the Nimrods gathered around the fire, it was noticed that they all looked decidedly pale and frightened.
"See anything of a funny-looking cat, boys?" asked Dave Brandon.
"Did we see it?" exclaimed John Hackett and Nat, in chorus.
"Well, say—I had the fight of my life," declared "Hatchet," boastfully. "We didn't turn in until late; I hadn't gone to sleep, when, all of a sudden, the varmint appeared in an open space, fighting like mad with a whopping big eagle."
"An eagle?" chorused the Ramblers, winking slyly at one another.