suggested, “Wouldn’t he try to lead them from the camp, fearing they would find us? If so he’d beat down the river. He’d never go up stream as the ridge would hedge him on one side. Besides, he wouldn’t want to place the ridge between himself and us.”
“That’s just what he would do,” heartily agreed Bub. “And, Stan, I must say I’m proud of you. You reason like a veteran woodsman. Not only would he go down stream to draw them from us, but also in a hope of meeting Noisy Charlie. O if he could only lead them within range of Charlie’s rifle. The Injun would bag every one of them.”
Despite their earnest conversation they kept a keen watch as they stole along, pausing frequently to listen. Once Stanley thought he heard the report of a rifle, but could not tell in what direction of the woods. When sufficiently removed from the camp Bub climbed several trees, hoping to get some clue of their enemies. On one of these occasions a rabbit, pursued by a lynx, broke through the woods and ran across Stanley’s feet. Responding to his nerves he promptly emitted a yell that nearly caused Bub to lose his hold on his aerial perch.
“Wh—what is it?” he faintly inquired, fearing his friend had been recaptured, yet loyally
