“Where’s the wood you brought at bedtime?” asked Jerry. “I don’t see it.”
“I—I forgot all about it,” admitted Hamp. “I was too sleepy to think. I’m awfully sorry.”
“Being sorry won’t help us now,” said Jerry, grimly. “There’s not even a stick.”
There was silence for a moment. The boys expected nothing less than to be pounced upon by the hungry beast.
“I believe the catamount has sneaked off,” declared Hamp. “Give me the lantern, and I’ll get some wood. It’s my fault that we have none.”
“I’ll go with you,” replied Jerry. “There’s a windfall under the roots of that dead pine tree. It’s only half-a-dozen yards from here. Come on.”
The two lads started, taking their guns and the lantern. They crossed the glade, and vanished in the timber.
Brick was left standing by the fireplace. He was afraid to go after his companions, nor did he like to be alone. He rested his gun on a stone, and stooped over the dying embers of the fire, trying vainly to fan them into a blaze. As he rose to his feet he heard a crackling noise, and was horrified to see a great, dusky animal crouching on the edge of the timber, directly opposite the spot where the boys had disappeared.
The beast’s arrival was so unexpected that Brick lost his wits. With a yell he turned and dashed across the glade, and rolled into a copse of bushes.
There he lay, shouting for help at the top of his voice, and expecting to be immediately torn to pieces.