"Hey there, who are you making faces at?" asked Dick.
"Oh, of course you don't understand," said Dave Brandon, loftily. "That's to shut out the detail. All artists do it. You ought to see Professor Mead when he paints."
"Glad I don't have to, if he puts on such a face as that."
"It's worse."
"It couldn't be. Hello, what's up?"
Havens was heard to shout—then a second cry came from the woods.
"More bears, I wonder?" exclaimed Bob.
"Sounds as if he was running like sixty," cried Dick. "Here he comes. What in thunder's the matter? Did you catch what he said?"
"No."
Bob hastily lowered himself to the ground, and the three boys started toward the rapidly advancing figure.