"That's bully," cried Havens.
"Um—um," said the "poet." He picked up a bird by the legs and held it aloft. "Isn't that a daisy wood-duck?" he cried, admiringly. "Look at the lovely color—it's the prettiest of all ducks."
"Right you are, Chubby, but it will look even prettier when it gets over the fire. Come ahead—it's growing dark fast."
Already the light was beginning to fade from the sky, and before long it would be difficult to find the trees which Havens had marked.
"It means a torchlight procession pretty soon," remarked Dave, and this prediction was soon verified. When night came, four flaring pine-knots flashed a pathway through the forest, and caused many of its inhabitants to dash madly for the nearest thickets.
Strange sounds met their ears, the plaintive note of the whippoorwill, the weird hooting of owls, and sometimes the cries of animals in the distance.
Every one of the group kept his eyes and ears open for signs of any dangerous beasts which might be lurking in their path.
Owing to Havens' forethought in "blazing" the trees at short intervals, the trail was easily found, and the cave at last reached.
"Oh, how glad I am to get here," said Dave. "Nice late supper we'll have, though I'm 'most too tired to eat."
"Isn't possible," said Dick. He lighted a fresh pine-knot, and continued, "Let's take a look inside the hotel."