he starlight he could see the outlines of these trees dimly. He
stationed himself in the dark shadows of a large tree, where he could
keep one eye on the horses and the camp, illuminated by the blazing
camp-fire, and the other on the surrounding valley.

For a couple of hours he neither saw nor heard a suspicious sign or
sound. Then from the little clump of trees came the hoot of an owl that
caused him to straighten up quickly and to listen intently. Ham had
spent the greater part of his life in the wilderness; and the voices of
its wild dwellers were as familiar to him as were the voices of his
fellow men; and something in the first hoot of that owl had awakened his
suspicions. It did not sound exactly right. There was a false quaver at
the end. In a minute the hoot was repeated, still with that unnatural
quaver at its end.

Along the outskirts of the grove grew a thin line of short bushes. Ham
now bent down until his form was hidden by these bushes, and began
creeping slowly and very cautiously toward the clump of trees. In this
way he was able to get some three or four rods nearer to the spot that
had awakened his suspicions. During this cautious forward movement the
hoot of the owl had been repeated three times, at intervals of about a
minute, and the same false note had been sounded each time.

"I'd bet th' last coonskin in my pack that that's no owl hootin'," Ham
muttered softly to himself, fixing his eyes intently on the dark shadows
underneath the trees.

Suddenly he fancied he saw one of the shadows move.

"By gum, I'll chance a shot!" and swiftly throwing his rifle to his
shoulder, he fired at the spot where he thought he had seen the shadow
move.

There was a faint sound, like a smothered exclamation; and then all was
still in the little grove of trees, nor could Ham's straining eyes
detect any further movements.

But his shot had aroused the camp; and now all the men, except the
guard, came running to him, their rifles in their hands, excitedly
calling to know what was the matter.

"Jest a suspicious hoot of an owl an' a movin' shader," answered Ham. "I
reckon thar was one of them durned skunks a-hidin' in that clump of
trees, a-callin' out some signal; an' I shouldn't be none s'prised if my
bullet pinked him. Leastwise I thought I heer'd a smothered cry."

"Get torches and we will see," cried Mr. Conroyal excitedly. "Maybe you
got him, Ham."

Thure and Bud hurried to the camp-fire and soon were