me down steadily, and the wind swept by in gusts. It was
the Banshee's hour, and two or three times, as they were dropping off,
that fearful, quavering human wail, "like a woman in distress," came
from the woods to set their hearts a-jumping, not Caleb and Sam only,
but all four.

In the diary which Yan kept of those times each day was named after
its event; there was Deer day, Skunk-and-Cat day, Blue Crane day, and
this was noted down as the night of the Banshee's wailing.

Caleb was up and had breakfast ready before the others were fully
awake. They had carefully kept and cleaned the Coon meat, and Caleb
made of it a "prairie pie," in which bacon, potatoes, bread, one small
onion and various scraps of food were made important. This, warmed
up for breakfast and washed down with coffee, made a royal meal, and
feasting they forgot the fears of the night.

The rain was over, but the wind kept on. Great blockish clouds were
tumbling across the upper sky Yan went out to look for tracks. He
found none but those of raindrops.

The day was spent chiefly about camp, making arrows and painting the
teepee.

Again Caleb was satisfied to sleep in the camp. The Banshee called
once that night, and again Turk seemed not to hear, but half an hour
later there was a different and much lower sound outside, a light,
nasal "_wow_." The boys scarcely heard it, but Turk sprang up
with bristling hair, growling, and forcing his way out under the door,
he ran, loudly barking, into the woods.

"He's after something now, all right," said his master; "and now he's
treed it," as the Dog began his high-pitched yelps.

"Good old Dog; he's treed the Banshee," and Yan rushed out into
the darkness. The others followed, and they found Turk barking and
scratching at a big leaning Beech, but could get no hint of what the
creature up it might be like.

"How does he usually bark for a Banshee?" asked the Woodpecker, but
got no satisfaction, and wondering why Turk should bother himself so
mightily over a little squeal and never hear that awful scream, they
retired to camp.

Next morning in the mud not far from the teepee Yan found the track of
a common Cat, and shrewdly guessed that this was the prowler that had
been heard and treed by the Dog; probably it was his old friend of the
Skunk fight. The wind was still high, and as Yan pored over the tracks
he heard for the first time in broad daylight the appalling screech.
It certainly was _loud_, thou