The stuffed wildcat had been propped up in front of Bob Somers' hut, and, with its flattened head and glass eyes, wore a most ludicrous expression.
The Stony Creek boys looked at it in dumb amazement, and listened with open mouths as Nat Wingate, with many exaggerations, told about their early morning scare.
"Huh! Ain't that fierce?" exclaimed Musgrove. "Never heard nothing to beat it. Nobody wouldn't play no such game on me twicet. Was you skeered, Plackett?"
"Scared nothing!" returned John, with a flash in his eyes. "Say—my name is Hackett—H-a-c-k-e-t-t! How many more times must I tell you?"
"I ain't no good on rememberin' names. But this beats me—it does—you heard that critter again?" and Musgrove gave a perceptible shiver.
Bob Somers presently produced the rude scrawl and placed it before the visitors.
"Can you make anything out of that?" he asked, after explaining how it had come into their possession.
"Don't look like nothing to me," replied Tim Sladder, shaking his head.
"Search me," added Musgrove, with an equally puzzled expression.
In a few words, Bob gave their views on the subject.