Soon after supper the rain began again and Kernertok expressed the opinion that it would keep up all night. They decided to risk the night without keeping watch.
“It’s a bad night for ghosts,” Jack declared.
“But the trouble is, we don’t know what species this particular ghost belongs to,” Bob reminded him.
Along about midnight Bob awoke. It was still raining hard and the wind remained in the same direction that it had held all day.
“It’s not apt to quit till the wind changes,” he thought as he turned over.
At that instant, above the sound of the wind, he heard the strange cry which had disturbed him the two nights previous. It was, however, a good ways off, and although it was repeated a number of times, it did not seem to come any nearer. None of the others woke so far as he could tell, and he soon drifted off to sleep again. When he again awoke day was just breaking and, to his great joy, he saw that the weather had cleared.
“Wonder if we’ll have any tracks,” he thought as he rolled out of his blanket.
Early as it was, Kernertok had a fire going and the coffee pot on.
“See any more of those tracks?” he asked, as he joined the Indian.
“Just same last night, heap big ones.”
“Do you have any idea of what it is, Kernertok?” Bob asked in a low tone.
“No know um,” the Indian grunted.
“You can just bet your last dollar that I’m going to camp right down by the lake to-night, wherever we camp, and find out what it is that makes those tracks,” Jack declared as he joined Bob down by the shore a few minutes later.
“You want to look out that it don’t find you first.”
“Not if I see him or it first it won’t.”
“Won’t what?” Rex, who joined them just as Jack spoke, asked.
“Oh, Jack’s going to put some salt on the tail of whatever it is that makes these tracks and catch it to-night,” Bob told him laughingly. “And he said it wouldn’t get him if he saw it first.”
“Well, you’d better shoot that salt with a three hundred kilometer gun, judging by the size of those tracks. I’d sure hate to meet the thing that made ’em in the dark,” Rex advised.
Just then Kernertok announced that breakfast was ready.
Churchill Lake is not large and they reached the upper end shortly after nine o’clock.
“What’s the next lake we strike, and how far is it?” Bob asked Kernertok.
“Him Big Umsaskis. Him ’bout ten mile up um stream.”
“How’s Sicum this morning?” Jack asked, leaning back to pat the shaggy head.
“Him heap better. No well yet. Not so much scared now.”
They found the stream joining Churchill Lake with the Big Umsaskis, a little larger than the one they had traversed the day before, but it was very swift and rocky and their progress was painfully slow. It seemed to the eager boys that they would hardly more than get into the canoe when they would have to clamber out and drag it around some obstruction.
“What time is it?” Jack asked late in the afternoon, as they were resting, after dragging the canoe over a particularly difficult place.
Rex laughed.
“That reminds me of the darkie who was in jail for life. A friend went to see him and as he was leaving the prisoner asked him what time it was. The friend replied, “Wha’ for you wan’ know the time? Youse ain’t going nowhere.”
“And it doesn’t seem as though we were doing much better just at present,” Jack laughed.
They entered the foot of Big Umsaskis just after five o’clock and decided to make camp for the night, as they were all very tired.
“I feel as though we had made about a hundred miles instead of ten to-day,” Jack declared, as he threw himself down on the ground.
As soon as the early supper was over they began to discuss plans for trying to find out what it was that was making the mysterious tracks. They all felt that it had gone far enough and that they were actually in danger and that it was high time to do something.
“Now, how are we going about catching that lalapaloosla?” Jack asked, as they sat around the fire.
“What’s that you said?” Rex gasped.
“I said how are we going to catch the lalapaloosla?”
“And what’s that?”
“That’s a second cousin to a ringed-tailed squeeler,” Jack replied with a perfect sober face.
“Oh, now I understand. I had one of them once,” Rex said equally sober.
“Eh, what?”
“I said I had one once.”
“One what?”
“Why a ringed-tailed squeeler. That’s what we were talking about, wasn’t it?”
Jack burst out laughing.
“I’ll come down as the squirrel said when it saw Davy Crockett. Anybody’s got to get up early in the morning to get ahead of you.”
After some discussion, it was decided that they would divide the night into two watches: Jack and the Indian to watch until twelve o’clock, when Bob and Rex would relieve them. None felt that it would be safe for one to stand watch alone.
“If those tracks are made by some four-footed animal it’s a mighty big one, as I said before, and if it’s a two-legged animal, in other words, a man, he’s going to a whole lot of trouble to scare us, and the chances are that he’d be desperate if he was cornered,” Bob said, and all agreed with him.
“If I only had my rifle,” Jack said. “I’d feel safer.”
“But they had only brought the one rifle and its disappearance left them unarmed, except for their automatics.
“Now, remember, there’s to be no funny business to-night. You are to call us sharp at twelve. That will give us all plenty of sleep and we all need it. Promise,” Bob said, as they were all about to separate.
“All right, I promise,” Jack replied, and Bob knew that he would keep his word.
It was a lonely watch down by the shore of the lake. It was not so dark as on the previous night, although there was no moon. The sky was studded with stars, and by their light they could see dimly for a distance of several feet. Sicum lay curled up close beside his master, and every little while a low growl or a faint whine indicated that his dreams were troubled.
“Guess he’s dreaming about that beating he got,” Jack thought, as he rubbed his eyes.
Slowly the minutes and hours passed, until after what seemed an eternity, his watch told him that it was time to call the others. Nothing had happened and they had not heard the strange cry.
“All quiet along the Potomac,” he announced after he had awakened Bob and Rex. “Hope you have better luck.”
“What day is it?” Rex asked as soon as they had taken their places down by the lake.
“Search me. It’s funny how one loses all track of the time up here in the woods. But it must be Sunday, I think. Wait a minute, till I reckon up.
“Yes,” he said a moment later, “it’s Sunday. We’ll have a good long rest if nothing happens. We never travel on Sunday if it can be helped, you know.”
“And that’s right too. A man needs one day in seven to rest.”
“I think so.”
“About one day in two would be even better,” Rex laughed, “according to the way we’ve been going the past two days.”
“It’s been pretty strenuous, for a fact, especially when you’re not used to it. It’s been a wonder to me that you’ve stood it so well.”
“Oh, I’m fairly tough when I get my second wind.”
“I’ll say you are.”
“It’s a good thing it isn’t so dark as it was last night,” Rex said a little later. “It’s a comfort to know that that lalapaloosla can’t get us without us seeing him.”
“You said something. Believe me it was dark last night.”
“Listen. Did you hear it?” Rex asked about an hour later.
“Sure did. It’s that fake wild cat again.”
“Are you sure it’s a fake?”
“N—o,” Bob replied slowly. “I’m not certain, but I never heard a cat make just that kind of noise. It’s a bit too shrill and drawn out at the end to be genuine. Still, of course, they don’t all sound exactly alike.”
“My experience with wild cats has been pretty limited, so my opinion is no good, but if a cat is making that noise, it must be some cat that’s all.”
“Oh, they can make noise enough so far as that is concerned. If you ever hear one close to you, you’ll never forget it. It’s enough to raise the hair on a bald man’s head.”
“As bad as that?” Rex laughed.
“You’ll think so if you hear one, and you may have the chance, because that fellow, whatever it may be, is coming closer and coming at a pretty good clip, too.”
The cry was now being repeated at close intervals, and each one was distinctly nearer than the one before.
“I don’t know whether there is any connection between those yells and the making of the tracks or not, but we want to keep our eyes peeled pretty sharp, because they seem to happen at about the same time,” Bob cautioned as he looked sharply about him.
“I believe the cat’s going farther away,” Rex said a little later.
“Sounds like it,” Bob agreed.
The cries had for some time been growing fainter and soon they died out altogether.
“Guess the show’s over for to-night,” Bob said, as he got to his feet and stretched his arms. “Let’s take the flash and see if Jack’s lalapaloosla has slipped anything over on us.”
“You bet.”
For some minutes they searched about close to the shore of the lake, but somewhat to their surprise no tracks were to be seen.
“Well, he may come yet,” Rex said as they once more sat down.
“You never can tell,” Bob agreed.
The time dragged slowly on, until Bob’s watch told him that it was nearly three o’clock.
“Goodness, but I’m sleepy,” he said as he got to his feet.
“Same here.”
“I’m going to take a look up back, if you don’t mind,” Bob said. “I’ll only be gone a few minutes.”
“Go ahead. I’ll keep watch here.”
Bob was gone a little longer than he expected. He was very thirsty, and running across the tiny bed of a stream, he followed it up hoping to find a spring. He soon located it and, after drinking his fill, he stopped to cut a strip of birch bark from a tree. With this he fashioned a dipper that he might take some water back to Rex.
“I’ll bet he’s thirsty,” he thought as he started back.
To his surprise Rex was nowhere in sight when he returned. He sat the birch bark dipper down and, with the aid of the flash light, looked about all around the place where they had been sitting.
“Guess he thought he’d take a stroll,” he thought. “But it’s rather strange he didn’t wait till I got back.”
Not really alarmed, but a trifle uneasy regarding his friend’s absence, he sat down and leaned back against the trunk of a tree. The minutes passed and Rex did not return.
“Hope he hasn’t gone and got lost,” he thought. “I’m afraid he doesn’t realize how easy it is to get lost in these woods.”
When a half hour had passed and still no Rex, he began to be really uneasy. Taking the flash light, he made a wide detour of the camping place, calling every few minutes as loudly, as he dared for fear of waking Jack and Kernertok.
“This is getting serious,” he told himself, as he returned to his previous position. “Wonder if I’d better call the others.”
Somewhat against his better judgment he decided to wait a while longer, hoping that Rex would return. He knew that it would be light in a little more than an hour, and he hated to disturb his brother and the Indian. But when the first tinge of the coming day lighted up the eastern sky and Rex had not returned, he was really alarmed, and decided to wait no longer.
“Eh, what’s up?” Jack asked sleepily, as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“Rex has gone.”
“Gone where?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” and Bob told him what had happened.
“It’s mighty funny how he could get lost so quickly.”
“I wasn’t gone over thirty minutes,” Bob assured him.
Their talking awakened Kernertok, and Bob quickly told him of Rex’s disappearance.
“That heap bad,” the Indian grunted. “Him get lost take long time mebby find him.”
“Well, to-day’s Sunday, so we won’t be losing any time,” Jack said.
“Do you think Sicum can track him?” Bob turned to Kernertok.
“We try um.”
But although they let the dog sniff at Rex’s cap and took him to where he had been sitting when Bob left him, the dog refused to stir.
“Him heap fool dog,” Kernertok declared disgustedly.
“You mustn’t blame him,” Bob cautioned. “Remember, we don’t know what he has been through.”
“It doesn’t seem as though he could have gone very far in the darkness,” Jack said, “and we ought not to have a great deal of trouble in finding him.”
By this time it was nearly daylight even in the woods, and, after a short discussion, it was decided that they would separate. Jack was to go up along the shore of the lake and Bob in the opposite direction, while Kernertok was to strike off at right angles to their course.
“Remember now, two shots will mean that he’s found and three that there’s trouble and help needed,” Bob told them. “It’s now a quarter to five, and we’ll keep on till seven o’clock, if we don’t find him. He wouldn’t go very far in the dark, and if we don’t locate him in that time it’ll mean that we’ve probably passed him. And don’t be afraid to yell. He may have fallen into a bear pit or something.”
After Bob had left him, Rex fell into a light dose for a moment, but was quickly aroused by a slight noise to his right. Instantly he was wide awake and straining his eyes. Was that something moving up along the shore of the lake? He was not sure at first, but a moment later he was certain that there was something there. Getting to his feet as quietly as possible he stole softly through the darkness. He could just make out a dim shape which seemed to glide rather than walk a few yards ahead of him. He followed slowly, careful to make no sound. If this was Jack’s lalapaloosla he had no wish to come into close quarters with it. But here was a chance to solve the mystery he felt, and the thought of not doing his best never entered his head.
For some thirty yards the shape led him along the shore of the lake and then seemed to turn and plunge into the thick woods nearly at right angles. As the shape disappeared he ran quickly forward to where it had turned, and listened. He could hear it as it made its way between the trees and, after a moment’s hesitation, he struck off after it. It never occurred to him that he could get lost so near the camp, and to wait for Bob might mean that he would lose the chance entirely.
It was pitch dark in the thick woods and he had only his sense of hearing to guide him as he hurried along. It seemed to him that, for so bulky a form, the thing moved with amazing swiftness, and he was hard put to it to keep in hearing distance. So intent was he on not losing track of the thing that he was wholly unaware of the passage of time, and it was with a start of surprise that he noticed that it was getting light. He had no idea as to how far he had come.
Rex stopped and listened. Not a sound of his quarry could he hear. Either the thing had stopped or else it had outdistanced him.
“Guess I’ll have to wait till it gets a little lighter and see if I can follow his tracks,” he thought. “It ought not to be hard if he makes as big ones in here as down by the lake.”
He sat down on a dead tree trunk and waited for perhaps a half hour.
“Guess it’s light enough now,” he said half aloud.
He began his search for the trail of the mysterious creature, full of hope that he would quickly pick it up. But in this he was disappointed, for he was unable to locate it.
“It’s a case of now you see it and now you don’t,” he muttered as he looked about him. “Well, guess I might as well get back to camp. I’ll bet they are wondering what has become of me,” he chuckled.
But which way should he go? Not until he was ready to start had it occurred to him that there could be any question about so simple a matter. He would simply go back the way he had come. But now, as he paused and looked about, he was forced to admit to himself that he had no idea as to the direction of the lake.
“I wonder if I’m lost,” he thought.
He remembered now how many times the boys had warned him how easily a man could get lost in the big Maine woods. But he was not worried. He would, of course, find his way out in a short time. It would at the most mean only a few hours’ delay.
“I’ll go in a straight line till I run across a brook, and then all I’ll have to do will be to follow it to the lake, and then follow the lake round to the camp,” he told himself as he started off.
He pushed his way through the woods as rapidly as possible, for he wanted to get back without any unnecessary delay. But he came to no stream, and after more than an hour had passed, he decided to take another short rest.
He again sat down on a fallen tree trunk.
“Brooks don’t seem to be as thick up here as I thought they were,” he said to himself, as he took his jack knife from his pocket.
It had long been a habit with Rex to carve his initials on the trunk of a tree whenever he was in the woods, and now he started to do it almost without thinking. He had cut an R through the bark close to his side, when he happened to raise his eyes to meet the log a little farther toward the end. There, only a few feet from where he sat, were some initials cut in the bark. He moved over so that he could read them. His eyes opened wide with astonishment as he saw R. D. in large letters.
“It’s sure a wonderful coincidence that another fellow having my initials should cut them on this very same tree,” he thought. “Don’t look as though they had been cut very long, either,” he muttered, as he moved over to examine the marks closer.
Then suddenly the truth came to him. They were the marks he had cut only an hour or two before.
“And that means that I’ve been traveling round in a circle and have come back to where I started,” he muttered. “Now what do you know about that?”
He remembered then that he had heard that a person lost in the woods is very apt to walk in a circle, owing to the tendency to take a slightly longer step with the right foot than with the left.
“Right back where I started from,” he mused, as he stared at the letters. “How the dickens is a fellow going to keep a straight line? If the sun would only come out from behind those clouds I might go by it, but it doesn’t look as though it had any intention of doing it. Well, here goes for another try at it. I may be back later,” he grinned as he looked again at the log.
Starting off in the same direction that he had taken before, he picked out a tree as far away as he could see through the thick woods and made his way to it.
“I’ve come straight so far at least,” he smiled, as he leaned against the tree and with his eye picked out another for his second goal.
In this way he kept on for what seemed to him a long time. He kept looking about half expecting to find himself back where he started from a second time. But as the time passed and he saw no sign of the fallen tree he began to take heart.
“I really believe I’m going straight this time,” he told himself.
It was nearly noon and he knew that he must have gone many miles before he thought of being hungry. But now the thought came to him with striking force. He remembered that he had eaten nothing since the night before and, as he expressed it, he felt empty clear down to his toes.
Bob was the first to get back to the camp. He had, in the three hours, covered nearly ten miles, he thought. He had called Rex’s name till he was hoarse, but only the echo of the forest had answered him.
“Hope one of the others has had better luck,” he thought as he reluctantly turned back.
It was nearly eleven o’clock when he got back, and he was somewhat surprised to find that neither Jack or Kernertok had returned.
Jack, however, was only a few minutes later and Kernertok, with Sicum following close to his heels, came just before half past eleven. All reported the same. No trace of Rex had been found.
“This is a serious matter,” Bob declared. “It isn’t as if he were used to the woods. Any one of us could live almost indefinitely in the woods, but it’s altogether different with a fellow who doesn’t know the ropes, so to speak.”
“Heap bad,” Kernertok shook his head.
“If only Sicum was all right, we’d have found him long before this,” Jack declared.
“No doubt about that,” Bob agreed. “But that doesn’t help just now. The big question is what are we going to do next?”
“Did he have a revolver with him?” Jack asked.
“I’m pretty sure he didn’t,” Bob replied.
“I reckon he didn’t or we’d have heard him shooting before this.”
“What gets me is where he could have gotten to in so short a time,” Bob mused.
“You don’t suppose that thing that made those tracks has carried him off, do you?”
“Reckon I’d have heard him yell if anything had attacked him,” Bob shook his head, but Jack knew from his expression that the thought had been in his mind.
“White boys stay here an’ Injun go out again,” Kernertok suggested.
“Not much,” Bob replied quickly. “We’ll get dinner and then we’ll all have another try at it and this time we must hunt till we find him.”
“You said something,” Jack agreed.
“Heap good,” Kernertok added.
They made short work of dinner and by twelve o’clock they were ready to start off once more.
“White boys be careful no get lost,” Kernertok warned them.
“We’ll be all right,” both assured him.
“Now we must go slow and really hunt this time,” Bob said as they were about to start. “We must have passed him somewhere the other time. He couldn’t have gotten so far as we went in the short start he had.”
“Doesn’t seem likely for a fact.”
Each of the three took with him a small amount of food, not so much for himself, but they knew that Rex would be nearly starved when he was found. Not one of them had admitted even to himself that there was a possibility of never finding him.
“Well, so long and good luck,” Bob waved his hand as he disappeared in the woods.
“Here’s hoping,” Jack called back.
“We find um,” Kernertok encouraged them.
Each had taken the same direction as he had on the first trip, judging that they would save a little time, having gone over the ground before.
It was just four o’clock when Rex finally came to a brook.
“Now I’ve got something to go by,” he told himself as he knelt down and drank for a long time. It was the first water he had found and his throat was nearly parched. He had hoped that he would find some berries of some kind, but had not, and he was beginning to feel weak from lack of food.
The cold water refreshed him somewhat, and after a short rest he started to follow the brook. It was a very crooked stream and the underbrush and bushes were thick along its banks, so that his progress was slow. But he did not dare to try any short cuts, as he feared he might lose it. It had been cloudy all day and darkness came on early.
“Guess I won’t be able to reach the lake to-day,” he panted, as he stumbled and fell headlong over a stick. “Guess one place is as good as another to camp and I’m going to stop right here. My but I’d give a lot for something to eat,” he muttered, as he picked himself up.
Only a few feet to his right was a thick clump of cedars, and he was moving toward it, thinking it would be a good place for a bed, when an ear-splitting yell made him jump back with a suddenness, which caused him to strike his heel on a stick and send him sprawling on his back. In falling his head struck a rock and for a moment he lay half stunned. Another yell from the clump of cedars brought him to his senses and he slowly got to his knees.
“I’ll bet there’s no fake about that wild cat,” he thought, rubbing the back of his head.
Bob had told him that a wild cat will seldom attack a man unless it is cornered, but if there should be two of them together they will sometimes take the initiative. All this passed through his mind as he was getting to his feet. He stood for a moment, his head still reeling from the contact with the stone. Another fierce shriek sent him rushing away toward the brook. He fancied that the last yell differed somewhat from the others, indicating that there were two cats in that clump of cedars.
“All right kitty-cat. You got there first, and I have no intention of turning you out of your bed,” he said as he reached the brook and crossed over to the other side. Somehow he felt safer with the brook between him and the cat.
In spite of the rapidly increasing darkness, he stumbled along down the stream, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the wild cat. Many times he fell headlong as his foot tripped on a root or hit against a stone. He stopped and listened every few minutes to determine whether or not the cat was following him.
“I don’t suppose I could hear it if it was,” he thought.
In a short time it grew so dark that he was obliged to stop whether or no. He thought that he had come at least a half mile from the clump of cedars. He had not heard the yell again and hoped that the cat had not followed him.
“I never knew what it was to be really hungry,” he thought as he drank once more from the brook.
Climbing up the steep bank, which at this point was about eight feet high, he groped his way about until he felt an open space at the foot of a large tree. The ground was hard, but he did not mind it, as he stretched himself out at full length.
Fortunately the night was warm and he did not suffer from the cold. His head ached slightly from the blow he had received, but he was asleep almost at once.
It was still dark when he awoke, and for some minutes he lay trying to make out where he was. Then as memory returned he raised himself on one elbow and looked about him. It was very dark and he could hardly see his hand before his face. He was about to sink back again when a slight rustle to his right caught his ear. He turned his head and the next moment his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. There, not ten feet from where he lay, he saw two balls of greenish fire. They were about four feet from the ground and his horror increased as he saw the next moment two more similar balls a few feet to the left of the first pair.
“There are two of them and they have followed me,” he thought.
It would be hard to find a more ferocious animal for its size than the wild cat of northern Maine. Growing often to a weight of forty pounds, their long claws are like needles and pitted against an unarmed man the latter is almost helpless against their furious clawing and biting.
As he lay there too unnerved to think, suddenly one of the cats gave a blood-curdling yell, and before it had died out the other joined in. Galvanized into action he started to get to his feet, and as he did so his hands touched a rock about the size of his fist. Hardly realizing what he was doing he picked it up and, taking hasty aim, threw it with all his might at the nearer pair of eyes. He did not wait to see what the effect of his throw might be, but turned and ran toward the brook. Another, and if possible, a more terrifying shriek followed him as he fled. He did not realize how near he was to the bank, and before he could stop himself he was rolling over and over, landing somewhat bruised, but otherwise unhurt in about two feet of water. He scrambled to his feet and, shaking the water from his eyes, for his head had gone completely under, started to wade to the opposite bank. The stream at this point was about twelve feet wide, with a rocky bottom.
He had gotten about half way across when he felt with his outstretched hands a large rock just in front of him. Quickly he clambered up onto it.
“Reckon I’d better anchor here awhile till I get the lay of the situation,” he thought. “I don’t believe those cats will swim for the sake of sampling me.”
Another shriek interrupted his thoughts, and looking toward the shore he could again see the balls of fire.
Sitting on the rock in his wet clothes was anything but comfortable, but under the circumstances Rex felt very well satisfied with the situation.
“I’d a whole lot rather be wet than clawed into ribbons,” he told himself.
Soon the pair of eyes were joined by the second pair, and the two big cats whined as if they realized that they had, for the time being at least, lost the game.
The weather had turned slightly colder during the night and Rex shivered as he crouched on his perch.
“Pretty pussy,” he called. “Sorry to disappoint you, but safety first, you know.”
While he felt that he was safe for the time at least, his position was anything but comfortable. The rock was barely large enough for him to sit on and he did not dare leave it. In his wet clothes his teeth chattered with the cold, although it was not what he would have called a cold night under ordinary circumstances. Water must have gotten into his watch when he went under, for it had stopped, and he had no way of telling the time.
“Not that it would have made much difference,” he told himself as he held the watch to his ear. “Every match that I’ve got is as wet as I am.”
From time to time, first one of the cats and then the other would shatter the silence with its agonizing yell.
Rex wondered with a great deal of anxiety if they would go away with the coming of daylight. He had heard that the wild cat did most of its hunting during the night, but, as he told himself, he was not at all certain that they kept union hours.
“It seems to me that with all the rabbits and other small animals running around here you fellows ought to be able to keep from starving without serving me up. Guess you don’t know how tough I am,” he told the cats, and was answered by an angry snarl.
“Don’t agree with me, eh? Well, we won’t argue the question. I suppose we have different points of view on the subject, but I do wish that we could arbitrate.”
Slowly the time passed, although he had no way of telling just how slowly. But it seemed almost an eternity before he noticed the first hint of the coming dawn. So slowly as to be almost imperceptible the darkness began to lift, and he knew that day was at hand. Would the cats give it up and go? That was the question which he asked himself over and over again.
“If they don’t, I guess I’ll have to close with them and have it out. The winner can eat the victim. No use of all of us starving,” he said half aloud.
Soon he was able to make out the form of one of the cats as it paced back and forth close to the water’s edge. He was surprised at the size of the beast.
“Gee, I didn’t know you grew that big,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to revise my last statement. You can stare as long as you like, so far as I’m concerned.”
Only the one cat was in sight and he concluded that the other must have given up and gone off.
“Mebby he’s gone to get breakfast for his companion,” he thought. “And that reminds me that I haven’t had mine yet. Ugly as you look, kittie, I don’t believe you want to eat me a bit more than I want to eat you. Wish I had a fish line along,” he thought, feeling through his pockets without success. “I believe I could relish a trout raw. But I don’t suppose they’d take a hook without any bait on it even if I had one.”
As soon as it was light enough for him to see distinctly he determined to wade down the brook—cat or no cat.
“Might as well take a chance as to stay here and starve,” he thought as he let himself down from the rock into the water, which came a little above his knees.
The cat, seeing him move, gave an angry snarl.
“Can’t help it if you don’t like it, pussy. You can’t have everything your own way in this cold world.”
He found that he could make fairly good progress and keep to the middle of the stream. In places there were rocks where he could leap from one to the other for some distance. Again he would have to wade, at times nearly to his waist. The big cat followed him along the bank, snarling and at times giving its yell.
“There’s no use getting so mad about it, kitty,” he told him as he paused waist-deep in the water. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I didn’t ask you to come along. Why don’t you run along home if you don’t like it? I won’t be lonesome without you. In fact, I’d rather you would go.”
But for along time the cat evidenced no intention of giving up. Rex estimated that he had jumped and waded for all of two miles, and the cat seemed as determined as ever.
“Believe I’ll try taking the offensive,” he thought, as he came to a shallow place near the middle of the stream.
He stooped down and picked up a rock about the size of his fist, and with all the force he could muster, threw it. The rock caught the cat in the side and bowled it over. But it was up in a second, snarling and yelling.
“Take your base,” Rex shouted, as he stooped for another rock.
The cat was not more than seven feet away, and the second stone caught it square on the nose. Without a sound, save for a lone whine, the cat fell on its side and gave a few convulsive kicks and was still.
“Batter’s out,” Rex yelled, as he stood and watched the animal. “I really believe I’ve killed it,” he mused a moment later, as the cat gave no sign of life. “Now what do you know about that? Didn’t know I was that good, but I guess the old wing hasn’t forgot how it used to strike ’em out.”
Convinced after some moments of watching that the cat was really dead, he waded over and stood gazing at it.
“You’d never take a prize in a beauty show, but I’m sure glad I got you instead of you getting me,” he muttered. “If I only had some way of making a fire, I believe I’d sample you, ugly as you look, but I don’t believe I can quite go you raw just yet. But that friend of yours had better stay away, unless he wants to get sampled.”
With renewed courage he started off down the stream once more, after pulling his belt up a couple of notches.
“Hope I find something to eat before this belt buckle meets itself,” he grinned.
This time his hopes were realized, for he had gone not more than a hundred yards when he came upon a raspberry patch. The bushes hung red with the big, luscious berries, and his heart leaped for joy as he saw them. It was characteristic of him that before eating a berry he knelt down and whispered a brief but earnest prayer of thankfulness.
“I never knew that anything could taste so good,” he thought, as berry followed berry into his mouth.
He ate as many as he dared, but far from what he wanted, knowing that it would be dangerous to overload his stomach in its present condition. Then he made, not without considerable difficulty, owing to his inexperience, a basket of birch bark, which would hold several quarts. This he filled in a short time, and after eating a few more, he again set off down the stream.
As he trudged along he wondered that his friends had not found him, but he failed to take into account the vastness of the forest and the fact that sound waves, broken by the thickly growing trees, do not carry so far in the woods as in the open.
From the position of the sun he judged it to be about noon, when he suddenly emerged from the thick woods and found himself on the shore of a lake.
“Now the big question is whether or not this is the right lake,” he thought as he looked out upon its surface.
He fancied that it was not so large as the lake where they had camped two nights before, but he could not be sure.
“Guess the only thing to do is to follow the shore around,” he mused, as he sat down on a rock to eat his dinner of berries. “They are mighty good, but not what you’d call filling, and as for variety, it reminds me of the butcher who said he had pig, pork, hog and swine.”
He rested for an hour, knowing that it was necessary to conserve his strength, and then started off to circle the lake. It was hard going from the first, as the shore, in many places, was marshy and he had to make long detours.
“Reckon it’ll take about a week at this rate,” he thought as he noticed that the sun was getting low in the west.
He stopped to eat a few more of the berries and was about to start again when he was electrified by a sound. It came from what seemed a great distance. He was not sure that he had really heard the call. He realized that it is easy to imagine that one hears his name called, so he waited and listened. In a moment it came again, and this time he was sure that it was no fancy.
“Hello-o-o-o,” he shouted at the top of his voice.
“Rex-x-x-x,” came back the answer.
“It’s Bob for a fact,” he exulted. “Here I am,” he called.
“Stay right where you are and I’ll find you.”
Rex sat down calling from time to time to guide his friend, and in about fifteen minutes Bob came in view.
“Thank God, I’ve found you at last,” the latter cried as he grasped Rex by the hand. “It’s sure been a long trail.”
“It has seemed so to me,” Rex assured him.
“Had anything to eat?”
“Only these,” and he held up the half-filled basket.
Bob quickly threw off his pack and in another moment they were both eating sandwiches.
“Um, lapping good,” Rex declared as he reached for another.
“Better wait a bit before you tackle a second one,” Bob advised.
“All right. You’re the doctor, but I’ll tell you right now, that I could eat all you can carry and then holler for more.”
“I don’t doubt it. But if you did I’d have you to carry in place of the grub.”
The first pangs of hunger appeased, Rex told of his adventures.
“You say you killed that cat with a stone?” Bob asked when he had come to that part of the narrative.