ure of it, but I wouldn't be surprised if a bank of heavy clouds
has risen in the west, and hidden the sun behind it. One thing certain,
we're going to have the fun of tramping several miles through a dark
woods."

"Well, so long as there are no rattlesnakes around this section of
country, that won't make much difference with me," Steve assured him.
"Yes, and I might add I hope that mother cat is the only specimen of her
race up here, too. It would be tough on us to run across another holdup,
so we'd be between two fires."

It grew constantly darker. Undoubtedly Jack must be right about the
heavens having clouded over in the west. Steve found another source for
worry. This time it did not partake of the nature of animal foes.

"Say, wouldn't it be a joke on us now, Jack, if a regular old drencher
came on, and soaked us to the skin? I'm listening in expectation of
hearing the mutter of thunder in the distance. After all, this wonderful
day seems bent on bringing us face to face with a number of queer
happenings. There, was that a growl of thunder then, or could it be
another of those queer blasts we heard before?"

"Neither, I reckon, Steve. I think it was only the wind rising, and
making a moaning sound among some treetops. I've heard it call out in a
way to make you think some poor fellow had been caught under a falling
tree, and was being slowly crushed to death. Yes, there it goes again,
you notice."

"But doesn't it sound spooky, though?" ventured Steve, looking hastily
over his right shoulder for luck. "Does that spell rain to you, Jack?"

"I hardly like to say, but it wouldn't surprise me if we did have a
spell of it before morning," the other went on.

"I only hope then it'll have the decency to hold off till we're safe
back in camp again," Steve ventured. "That tent is guaranteed to shed
water in the hardest downpour. Mr. Whitlatch, the town photographer, has
tested it many times and promised that it would not leak a drop; only
you've got to keep from touching it when wet with your fingers, because
that's a bad thing to do, and may start a drip."

Both boys found themselves bending over more than at any previous time
during the return journey. This was all on account of the gathering
darkness, for with the passage of every minute the task of seeing their
tracks was becoming more difficult.

"This thing is getting pretty tough," wheezed Steve, finally. "I've got
fairly decent eyes, but I own up they're