ence of the wood was broken again by the cry. The boy
and the girl halted involuntarily. No matter how brave Russ might appear
to be, there was a tone to that scream that made shivers go up and down
his back.

"Oh, Russ!" cried Rose.

"Oh, Rose!" stammered her brother.

The scream came from so near that it seemed worse than before. And now
Russ was shaken in his proclaimed opinion. It did not seem that any
woman, no matter how great her distress might be, could make such a
terrible sound.

"I guess we'd better go back," confessed Russ after a minute.

Rose was eager to do so. They turned and, hand in hand, began to run.
And in their haste they somehow missed the path they had been following.
Or else, it had not been a path at all.

At least, after running so far that they should have reached the burned
cabin they came out into quite a different clearing! They both knew that
they had missed the way, for in this clearing stood a little cabin with
a pitched roof that neither of the Bunker children had ever seen
before. Nor was the wide brook in sight.

"I guess we've got turned around," Russ said, trying to hide his
disappointment and fear from his sister. "We've got to go back, Rose."

"Do you know which is back?" she asked.

"We've got to hunt for that old path."

"Don't you leave me, Russ Bunker!" cried Rose, as her brother started
away.

And just then both of them saw the tawny, long tailed, slinking beast in
the edge of the thicket.

"Oh! It's a bear!" shrieked Rose.

"Bears don't look like that," gasped Russ, staring at the great, glowing
eyes of the animal. "It looks more like a cat."

"There never was a cat as big as that, Russ Bunker, and you know it!"

"Come on, Rose," said her brother promptly. "We'll go into that house
and shut the door. It can't get us then, whatever it is."

In a moment the two children had dashed into the cabin and pulled to the
swinging door. The door had a lock on the outside, and when Russ banged
the door shut he heard the lock snap.

"Now it can't get at us!" cried Russ with some satisfaction. "We're
safe."

"But--but I don't like this old house, Russ Bunker," complained Rose.
"There is no window."

"All the better," was the brave reply. "That cat can't get at us."

Then the screech sounded again and the boy and girl clung together while
the sound echoed through the lonesome timber.

"It's that thing that makes the noise," whispered Rose. "Oh, Russ! if
Daddy B