torted into queer shapes and
shadows.

The bright gleam from the scoutmaster's flash-light, sweeping the
snow about the cabin door, showed it unbroken by a single footprint
of man or animal. They pushed on through the group of hemlocks, showering
themselves with icy particles, but still they neither saw nor heard
anything unusual. Then, just as some of the sounder sleepers were
beginning to wonder whether they might not have dreamed it all, there
rang out suddenly from among the tall laurel-bushes to their left a
piercing, gurgling scream.

The horrible sound, so much clearer and more blood-curdling in the
open, seemed to paralyze them all. For a fraction of a second they
stood motionless; then Mr. Curtis plunged forward through the snow,
and the rest followed in a straggling group, eyes starting and hands
spasmodically clenching their staves.

"It's somebody being--murdered!" gasped Bob Gibson, huskily. "I knew the
minute I heard it that something awful--"

He broke off with a queer, inarticulate murmur. Mr. Curtis had stopped so
suddenly that the boy just behind narrowly escaped running into him.
Throwing back his head, he sent peal after peal of laughter ringing
through the silent woods. The scouts stared, dazed, as if they thought
he had taken leave of his senses.

"What is it, sir?" begged two or three voices at once. "What--"

The scoutmaster choked and gurgled speechlessly, waving one arm
helplessly toward the woods ahead. Several of the keenest-eyed thought
they saw a vague, dark shadow moving silently across the snow; but it
meant nothing to them, and they turned back to their leader, as
bewildered as before.

"What a sell!" gasped the latter, striving to regain his self-control;
"what an awful sell!" He succeeded in choking down his laughter, but
there were tears of mirth in his eyes as they swept the staring circle.
"It's nothing but an owl, fellows," he chuckled.

"An owl!" exclaimed Ted MacIlvaine, incredulously. "An owl--making a
noise like that!"

The scoutmaster nodded and wiped his eyes. "An owl," he repeated. "There!
Listen!"

_To-whoo-hoo-hoo, to-whoo-whoo._ A full, deep-toned note, like the
distant baying of a hound, was wafted back through the woods. The
strained expression on several faces relaxed, but they still looked
puzzled.

"That's more familiar," smiled Mr. Curtis. "It's a great horned owl. You
look as if you didn't believe it yet, Bob," he added, "but that's what
it is, all