Part 22 (1/2)

”I hope so,” was all the other would say.

”And I've got a dreadful fear,” remarked Will, sighing, ”that the poor fellow's been caught under a falling tree. So many went down last night.

I'll hear that terrible cras.h.i.+ng every time I wake up for a long time to come. It haunts me, just because I imagined Jerry out in it all.”

Toby here banged the big spoon on the empty frying pan. That was a welcome sound to a set of ravenous boys, and they quickly a.s.sembled around the rude table upon which the black _chef_ was placing heaps of flapjacks, flanked by steaming cups of fragrant coffee.

Uncle Toby did not seem to relish being left alone in the camp again; but there was nothing else to be done. Frank gave him some advice as to what he should do if any wild beast invaded the place; and also how he could threaten any of Andy's crowd should they show up with hostile intent.

Then the three boys started off, meaning to head in a direct line for the distant camp of the old trapper.

”What if we don't find him there?” asked the skeptical Will.

”Wait till we get to the river before trying to cross. I reckon we'll be apt to find some traces of him there. And even if he was caught out in the woods in that storm, that's no sign he was hurt or killed. Jerry knows enough to get in out of the wet; and depend on it he found shelter somehow, somewhere.”

So Frank buoyed their spirits up in his accustomed cheery way. One could easily see that he belonged to the optimist family, and never looked on the gloomy side of things.

They had not gone half a mile away from the camp before they discovered some one moving through the bushes ahead.

”There he is!” exclaimed Bluff, eagerly, as he raised his hand to his mouth, as if about to give a ”cooie.”

”Hold on! I don't believe it is. There, you see, it's a man, and a hunter, too, I expect, for he's carrying a gun,” interrupted Frank.

”Perhaps he may have seen Jerry. Shall we ask him?” demanded Will.

”If we keep on straight we're going to meet him, and, of course, we'll ask. I only hope he has, though I doubt it. Do either of you know him?”

Frank asked this because he was comparatively a newcomer in Centerville, while the other boys had been raised there.

”Seems to me I've seen him before,” exclaimed Bluff. ”Why, yes, it's Mr.

Smithson. He lives in Centerville--that is, his family does, because he isn't home much. You see he's one of the wardens over at the State insane asylum at Merrick.”

”What?” cried Frank, startled; ”then perhaps he may not be hunting wild animals after all. Suppose one of the mad inmates of that inst.i.tution escaped, and is up here roaming through the woods?”

”Jewhittaker!” exclaimed Will, turning a trifle pale, and hugging his camera closer to his breast, as though his first fear concerned its safety.

”If that's so, I hope Jerry didn't run across him, that's all,”

remarked Bluff.

”Come on, hurry. You've given me a little shock now, and we must learn the truth immediately. Call out to him, Bluff--there, he sees us, and is coming this way.”

As Frank said, the keeper was hurrying toward them now, an anxious look on his face. He nodded to Bluff as he came up.

”Camping up here, are you, boys? That's fine. Used to like to do it myself when I was younger. Say, you didn't happen to see anything of a wild-looking chap anywhere around, did you?” he asked, glancing at each in turn.

”Sorry to say we haven't, Mr. Smithson. Has one of your charges got away?”

”That's just what has happened, and I've been chasing him all over the country. Got track of him yesterday just before the beastly old storm hit me. He's somewhere around this section right now. Where's your camp, boys? He'll be pretty sharp set with hunger by now, and can scent grub a long ways off?” continued the keeper.

The three lads looked at each other.