ike
to shoot 'em, so you stay outside and do it--I don't."

At last it was arranged that Ollie and I should sleep inside
and Jack under the wagon. We were surprised to find how early we
were ready for bed. The long ride and the fresh air had given us
an appetite for sleep. So we soon turned in, the dog staying
outside with Jack.

"Good-night, Uncle Jack!" called Ollie, as we put out the
lantern and covered up in the narrow bed. "Look out for
painters!"

I was almost asleep when Ollie shook me, and whispered,
"What's that noise?"

I listened, and heard a regular, hollow, booming sound,
something like the very distant discharge of cannon.

"It's the horses walking on the ground-always sounds that way
in the night," I answered.

Again I was almost asleep when Ollie took hold of my arm, and
said, "What's that?"

[Illustration: Effect of a Strange Noise]

I once more listened, and recognized a peculiar creaking
noise as that made by the horses cropping off the grass. I
explained to Ollie, and then dropped off sound asleep. I don't
know how long it was, but after some time I was again roused up
by a nervous shake.

"Listen to that," whispered Ollie. "What can it be?"

I sat up cautiously and listened. It was a strange, rattling,
unearthly sound, which I could not account for any better than
Ollie.

"It's a bear," he whispered. "I heard them make that noise at
the park back home."

I was puzzled, and concluded that it must be some wild
animal. I took down one of the guns, crept softly to the front
end of the wagon, raised the flap, and looked out. The wind was
still, and the night air met my face with a cool, damp feeling.
The moon had just risen and the lake was like silver. I could see
the horses lying asleep like dark mounds. But the mysterious
noise kept up, and even grew louder. I grasped the gun firmly,
and let myself cautiously out of the front end of the wagon. Then
I climbed back in less softly and hung up the gun.

"Wh-what is it?" asked Ollie, in a faint whisper.

"It's your eloquent Uncle Jack snoring," I said. "He's one of
Grandpa Oldberry's sim'lar varmints."

III: FROM LOOKOUT LAKE TO THE MISSOURI RIVER

Our first night in the Rattletrap passed without further
incident--that is, the greater part of it passed, though Ollie
declared that it lacked a good deal of being all passed when we
got up. The chief reason for our early rise was Old Blacky, a
member of our ho