It was a weird and dreary place, and the boys surveyed it for a moment with vague feeling of abhorrence. Then they hastily strapped on their snowshoes, and turned to the mouth of the valley, which was a few yards to their left. They posted themselves behind rocks, on opposite sides of the narrow pass. In between lay scrub bushes and the now frozen bed of the stream.
“Got both your guns loaded?” Hamp called across, in a loud whisper.
“Yes; I’m ready,” Brick replied.
His rifle was in his arms, and the shotgun stood beside him.
“How long do you think we’ll have to wait?” he added.
“Not long,” answered Hamp. “The thirty-five minutes are surely up by this time. I’ll bet Jerry is stalking the herd.”
An interval of waiting dragged slowly by. The boys became fidgety and restless. They imagined that something had happened to their companion.
Bang! the thunderous roar of a shotgun suddenly reverberated down the ravine. The boys jumped with surprise, and nervously clutched their weapons. They gazed eagerly up the valley.
“Now look out,” cried Hamp. “They’ll be here in a minute. Keep cool, old fellow, and aim straight.”
“I’ll do my best,” replied Brick. “You take the first one, and I’ll pick out one of the rest.”