-fact manner to
overlay even a touch of poetry or imagination, he lay there watching
it for a long time, fascinated by the leaping, dancing, crimson-yellow
flames, until sleep at length overtook him.

How long he lay oblivious to sights and sounds he had no idea. But it
must have been hours later when he found himself sitting bolt upright,
every nerve tingling and in his ears the echo of that strange, horrible
cry that had shocked him into complete wakefulness.

"What's that?" came in a tense, frightened gasp from one of the boys
across the room.

Bob did not answer. He sat there shaking nervously and straining his
ears for a repetition of the ghastly sound. The fire had died down
to a bed of dull red embers, and there was a noticeable chill over
everything. He caught his breath as a dark shadow swiftly passed him and
then realized, with a feeling of keen relief, that it was Mr. Curtis. A
moment later the scoutmaster had thrown an armful of light wood on
the embers and the fire blazed up, illumining the pale faces of the
boys, strained, startled, but all tense with expectation.

Suddenly the cry came again, a piercing, strangled, high-pitched scream
that turned the blood cold and brought out beads of perspiration on more
than one forehead. It seemed to come from just outside the cabin door.

CHAPTER XIII

WHAT THEY FOUND

By this time MacIlvaine and Frank Sanson had tumbled out of their bunks,
and Bob followed their example.

"Wha--what is it, sir?" he asked, striving to keep his voice steady.

"I don't know," returned Mr. Curtis, briefly. He had slid into his
riding-breeches and was hurriedly dragging on the heavy boots. "That's
what we'll have to find out."

Bob hastily caught up his trousers. "It--it sounded like somebody
being--choked," he said shakily.

Every one was out on the floor now, grabbing hastily for his clothes.
Oliver caused a momentary spasm of mirth by trying to crowd both feet
into one trouser-leg, but for the most part the boys huddled on their
things in silence, shivering a bit from cold and nervousness. In about
two minutes they were ready, and, catching up their staves, they hurried
out into the open, the scoutmaster leading the way.

It had stopped snowing, and overhead a few stars gleamed coldly out
of the blue-black sky. The wind had died down and the snow-clad woods
stretched away before them, dim, white, oppressively silent, the
tree-trunks black, the laden hemlocks dis