woods than to linger by the deserted campfire. Of course Bub would be there, and yet there was no atmosphere of home-coming for him as he came in sight of the opening.
“O-ee-e-e!” he sounded through his hands, pausing again for he knew not what reason.
There was a space of absolute silence and then faintly came back “O-e-e-e!”
“That’s Bub,” he muttered. “But his reply doesn’t sound very cheerful.” Next he smiled; for why should Bub feel cheerful? If Bub knew what news was being brought to him he would be dancing and prancing to meet his chum.
Again Stanley sounded the call and again it was answered; this time more clearly, but with no particular cordiality in its tone.
“Hi, Bub!” cried Stanley, as he drew within calling distance. “Where are you?”
“Here,” returned a sullen voice from beyond a bunch of ground hemlock.
“Well, cheer up, Mr. Thomas. Can’t you give me a better welcome than that?” There was no reply and Stanley continued, “I say, old man, it’s bad enough for Abner to have the blues, but when you—Heavens!”
The exclamation might well be forgiven him. For bound to a tree, his mouth distended by a
