Camp and Trail | Page 5

before he reached shallow water.
Now, for the first time to-night, the moon shone fully out from her veil of cloud, casting a flood of silver radiance, and showing him a scene in white and black, still and clear as a steel engraving, of a beauty so unimagined and grand that it seemed a little awful. It gave him a sudden respect for the unreclaimed, seldom-trodden region to which his craving for adventure had brought him.
The outline of Old Squaw Mountain could be plainly discerned, a dark, towering shape against the horizon. A few stars glinted like a diamond diadem above its brow. Down its sides and from the base stretched a sable mantle of forest, enwrapping Squaw Pond, of which the moon made a mirror.
"My! I think this would make the fellows in Manchester open their eyes a bit," muttered Neal aloud. "Only one feels as if he ought to see some old Indian brave such as Cyrus tells about,--a Touch-the-Cloud, or Whistling Elk, or Spotted Tail, come gliding towards him out of the woods in his paint and feather toggery. Glad I didn't visit Maine a hundred years ago, though, when there'd have been a chance of such a meeting."
Still muttering, young Farrar kicked off his high rubber boots, and dragged off his coat. He proceeded to shake and wring the water from his upper garments, listening intently, and glancing half expectantly into the pitch-black shadows at the edges of the forest, as if he might hear the stealthy steps and see the savage form of the superseded red man emerge therefrom.
"Ugh! I mind the ducking now more than I did a while ago," he murmured. "The water wasn't cold. Why, we bathed at the other end of the pond late last evening! But these wet clothes are precious uncomfortable. I wish we were nearer to camp. Good Gracious! What's that?"
He stood stock-still and erect, his flesh shrinking a little, while his drenched flannel shirt clung yet more closely and clammily to his skin.
A distant noise was wafted to his ears through the forest behind. It began like the gentle, mellow lowing of a cow at evening, swelled into a quavering, appealing crescendo cadence, and gradually died away. Almost as the last note ceased another commenced at the same low pitch, with only the rest of a heart-beat between the two, and surged forth into a plaintive yet tempestuous call, which sank as before. It was followed by a third, terminating in an impatient roar. The weird solo ran through several scales in its performance, rising, wailing, booming, sinking, ever varying in expression. It marked a new era in Neal's experience of sounds, and left him choking with bewilderment about what sort of forest creature it could be which uttered such a call.
He began to get out some bungling description when Cyrus joined him shortly afterwards, but the American had had a lively time of it while recovering his jack-light and righting the canoe on mid-pond. He was in no mood for explanations.
"Keep the yarn, whatever it is, till to-morrow, Neal," he said. "I didn't hear anything special. Perhaps I was too far away. I'm so wet and jaded that I feel as limp as a washed-out rag. Let's get back to camp as fast as we can."

CHAPTER III.
LIFE IN A BARK HUT.
It was two o'clock in the morning when the tired, draggled pair stumbled ashore at the place where they embarked, hauled up their birch skiff, leaving it to repose, bottom uppermost, under a screen of bushes, and then stood for some minutes in deliberation.
"I'm sure I hope we can find the trail all right," said Cyrus. "Yes, I see the blazes on the trees. Here's luck!"
He had been turning the jack-lamp on either side of him, trying to discover the "blazes," or notches cut in some of the trunks, which marked the "blazed trail"--in other words, the spotted line through the otherwise trackless forest, which would lead him whither he wanted to go.
It required considerable experience and unending watchfulness to follow these "blazes"; but young Garst seemed to have the instinct of a true woodsman, and went ahead unfalteringly, if vigilantly, while Neal followed closely in his tracks.
After rather a lengthy trudge, they reached a point where the ground sloped gently upward into a low bluff. Still keeping to the trail, they ascended this eminence, finding the forest not so dense, and the walking easier than it had been hitherto. Gaining the top, they emerged upon an open patch, which had been cleared of its erect, massive pines, and the long-hidden earth laid bare to the sky by the lumberman's axe.
Here the eagerly desired sight--that sight of all others to the tired camper; namely, the camp itself, with its cheery, blazing camp-fire--burst upon their view, sheltered by