“What was that?” exclaimed Bumpus.

“Oh! Davy just had to let out a whoop!” commented Step Hen.

“Think again, would you,” spoke up Giraffe, who sat there twisting his long neck this way and that, in a comical way, as though seeking to discover the object of the strange outcry; “it came from the other side of the camp from where Davy is.”

“Well,” said the indifferent Step Hen, as if not wanting to be bothered, “then it must have been some animal that was curious enough to prowl around our camp, and got a good scare, free, gratis, for nothing.”

“It was no animal that made that sound, and I leave it to Thad or Allan here,” Bumpus insisted.

Indeed, even the sleepy Step Hen sat up and took notice that the two mentioned, as well as Jim and Eli, were already on their feet, exchanging significant looks. Words were hardly needed to proclaim that they deemed the circumstance as one worthy of investigation.

Just then Davy came in, bearing his little camera, and with a grin on his face.

“Got a fine picture that time, I reckon, fellers,” he announced, after the manner of satisfied camera fiends the world over.

“Did you give a shout, Davy?” asked Thad, thinking it best to settle that point in the start, before going any further.

“Not that I know of, I didn’t,” immediately replied the other.

“Did you hear one?” continued the patrol leader.

“Sure I did, and took it for granted that Step Hen or Giraffe had been scared by the fireworks display, in spite of my warning, and squealed,” Davy replied.

“That settles it, then,” Thad went on, turning to Eli and Jim; “get a torch, or the lantern, and we’ll see what it was.”

“Wow! this looks some interesting!” exclaimed Giraffe, beginning to show signs of excitement himself.

Eli picked up the lantern, and lighted it. Then he led the way into the bushes at the exact spot where, according to his educated ear, the snort and the crash had come from.

“Keep back, the rest of you,” said Thad, “and let Eli do the looking. If he finds anything worth while, be sure you’ll all know about it.”

A minute later the old guide called to them to come on.

“Bully for Eli; he’s lost no time in making good!” exclaimed Giraffe.

The whole party crowded around the old guide, who was on his knees on the ground, apparently examining some tracks he had found. He waved a hand to keep them from crowding too close to him, so as to interfere with his work.

Bending low, Thad could easily see the marks. Some one had been crouching there in the bushes, and spying on the camp. That he could not be an honest woodsman it was easy to guess, for as such he would have stalked straight into camp, sure of the warm welcome that is always extended to a stranger who looks good.

Eli pointed to the impression close to the footprints.

“Thar’s whar he rested the butt o’ his rifle,” he said, positively, and Thad knew it was exactly as Eli declared, just as though he could himself see the actions of the hidden man. “Got on his knees and crawled up to whar he c’ud poke his nose outen the scrub hyar, an’ watch us. And hyar’s whar he was arestin’ on jest wun knee; cause ye kin see the mark o’ his foot beyond.”

“What was he doing that for?” asked Thad, though deep down in his heart he seemed to instinctively know.

“Wall, I kinder guess naow thet he moût a be’n a tryin’ to see how he cud kiver wun o’ us with his gun!” replied Eli.

He beckoned to Jim, and that worthy approached. There was a troubled look on the face of the younger guide that Thad could not but notice; and he realized that the affair might not be so great a mystery to Jim as it seemed to the rest of them.

“Take a squint at them hood tracks hyar, Jim; p’raps ye moût sorter reckernize the same,” Eli remarked drily.

Jim only needed that one glance, and then he gritted his teeth as he observed:

“Oh! twar him, all right, Eli; I knowed it.”

“Wow! and again I say, wow! this here is sure getting mighty interesting!” muttered Giraffe, shuffling uneasily from one foot to the other; while Bumpus, filled with a sudden alarm, started back into the camp, to arm himself with his new gun.

“Do you mean Old Cale Martin?” demanded Thad.

“None other,” answered Jim, moodily.

“Then he must have seen you, Jim, sitting here?” the patrol leader went on.

“He shore did,” replied the short guide.

“And amused himself covering you with his gun, just as if to say that he could put a bullet in you, if so be he wanted; but he didn’t want to, did he Jim?

“Reckon he didn’t, sir,” the other ventured. “Yuh see, he ain’t jest thet mad at me, so’s tuh wanter kill me; jest sez as haow I gotter keep away from whar he camps, yuh know.”

“Sill, he said he meant to pin your ears to a tree, if he caught you up here; those were about the words your guide friend, Hen Parry, used, weren’t they, Jim?”

“Thet’s what they was; an’ he meant it, too,” Jim replied. “Thet’s one o’ his good points, thet he allers keeps his word. If them game wardens cud ever git Olé Dad Martin tuh say as he never wud kill game outen season agin, they’d know nawthin’ under the sun’d tempt him tuh do hit, not even if he was a dyin’ fuh a bite o’ meat. He ain’t all bad, this here Cale Martin.”

“But what about you, Jim; seems to me this is taking big chances in your coming up here, when such a lawless character has a grudge against you, and is waiting to put his stamp on you that way. And strikes me, Jim, that you must have had a motive in coming, that was more than just bluff. How about that?”

The young guide glanced at Thad when he said this, and evidently realized that the patrol leader could read his mind better than most people; he looked a little confused; then gave a short nervous laugh, and said:

“Wall, naow, sense yuh sized me up thet away, I’ll jest hev tuh admit thet I did hev a notion in comin’ up here, ‘sides takin’ ye through the Eagle Lakes. I hed my orders tuh come, an’ from one as I hes tuh mind.”

He turned away while speaking, as though not inclined to say more just then in the presence of so many; but Thad made up his mind there was a story back of the strange actions of Jim; and that a few point-blank questions might bring it out. Before he slept he hoped he would find a chance to get Jim to one side and ask him about it; for he had reason to believe the other was ready to confide in him.

“Do you think he’ll come back again to-night?” asked Davy Jones.

“Who cares?” remarked a voice at the elbow of the speaker; and turning, they beheld Bumpus flourishing his new double-barrel gun, as though only too anxious for a chance to hold somebody up at its muzzle.

“Here, you keep that cannon aimed the other way, if you please!” cried Giraffe, dodging behind a convenient tree. “You ought to be marked with a red flag ‘dangerous dynamite!’ that’s what I think!”

“Come, let’s get back to camp,” remarked Thad. “There’s little chance of Old Cale coming back here to-night. He got the scare of his life when that flashlight burst on him so sudden like. I wouldn’t be surprised if he thought a rapid-fire machine gun was opening on him; or else that lightning had taken to camping on his trail.”

“Anyhow,” remarked Allan, “he just couldn’t help turning and running as if the Old Nick were after him. And from that we can guess that Cale never heard tell of flashlight pictures.”

“Well, can you blame him?” asked Thad. “Makes me think of the old fable, when the lion and the donkey went hunting together. The lion took up his station at the mouth of the cave where some goats had hidden, while the donkey went in; and made all sorts of terrible noises, braying. So the goats ran out, and the lion killed as many as he wanted. When the donkey came out he asked his partner if he had done the job in good shape. ‘Fine,’ said the lion, ’and you would have frightened me too, if I hadn’t known that you were only a donkey.’ And that’s the way with us, fellows; we were on to the game in advance, or some of us might have taken to our heels too.”

“Here, that sounds mighty much like you were calling me a donkey,” remarked Davy, trying to display a certain amount of offended dignity.

“Oh! not in the least,” laughed Thad.

“If the shoe fits, put it on,” jeered Giraffe. “You know they say that wherever you see smoke, there’s sure to be fire.”

“Not much there ain’t,” burst out Bumpus, with a grin. “I’ve seen heaps of smoke started, without a sign of a blaze,” and Giraffe subsided into silence knowing what was meant.

“Did you get a good picture, Davy?” asked Thad, as they once more settled down around the fire.

“Seemed like it to me,” was the reply. “It was just when you were all laughing at what Eli here was saying. He had his hand up, like he was going to smack it down in the palm of the other, to emphasize a telling point in his story. Say, wouldn’t it be a great stunt now, if, when I developed that plate, I found a face sticking out of the bushes across yonder; and Jim here recognized it as belonging to that big terror of the pine woods, Cale Martin!”

“Say, that would be just great!” ejaculated Step Hen; and all eyes were turned toward Jim; but that worthy made no remark, though he must have surely heard what was said.

As the evening grew on apace Thad was watching for the chance he wanted, to get a few words in private with the younger guide. Jim somehow had interested Thad from the start. He never said anything about himself or his folks; but somehow the young patrol leader had been drawn toward Jim. He believed the fellow to be a sturdy chap, clean and honest as any guide ever employed by big game hunters in the Maine woods. And now that it began to appear that there was a little mystery attached to his past, of course Thad felt a deeper interest in Jim than ever.

Perhaps it was accident that took Jim off after a while; he may have just wanted to smoke his pipe alone, and ponder on the strange fate that seemed to throw him once more in contact with the man who had crossed his life trail in the past, and apparently not in a pleasant way either. But somehow Thad conceived an idea that Jim just knew he wanted to have a quiet little chat with him; and was thus making an opening.

Just as he had expected he found the guide leaning against a tree near by. The light from the flickering blaze of the camp-fire reached the spot, but faintly; and Jim did not even show any signs of nervousness when Thad drew near, which was one indication that he had half expected his coming.

Perhaps Jim even invited a chance to bestow his confidence on the young scoutmaster. He must have seen before now that Thad Brewster was no ordinary boy; and when a man has been brooding over something a long time, he often feels like having a friend to whom he may pour out the troubles of his soul, and from whom perhaps he may look for advice.

“Not thinking of changing your mind, are you Jim?” asked Thad, as he joined the other by the tree.

“If yuh mean ‘bout goin’ back, an’ feelin’ like a whipped houn’ dog, sir, ’taint in Jim Hasty tuh do thet aways. Fact is,” the guide went on, with a stubborn ring in his voice, “meetin’ up with Olé Cale jest kinder makes me more sot in my mind than ever. I stays with yuh right through, yuh kin bank on thet.”

“Well, I only hope he’ll conclude to give us a wide berth, and make up his mind that he’d better keep his hands off,” Thad went on. “Seems like he doesn’t fancy you any too much, Jim?”

This was a plain invitation, and the other so regarded it, for he immediately answered:

“I kinder guess Olé Cale does hate me wuss nor pizen, sir. P’raps he’s gut reason fût hit; an’ agin, mebbe he hain’t. ’Tall depends on the way yuh look at hit. I on’y done what any man o’ speerit’d adone, if so be he found himself up agin a stone wall like Cale Martin’s ’no, not on yuh life!’ meant.”

“Then you asked him for something, did you, Jim?”

“Jest what I done, sir; which something war what he happened to keer more fur than anything else on the yarth,” Jim replied; and Thad could detect something soft and tender underneath the words, that gave him a clue.

“And that something, Jim?” he went on, invitingly.

“War his darter, Little Lina, ther purtiest an’ sweetest gal in all the Maine woods,” the guide made answer. “When he sez as haow I never cud hev her with all her carin’ fur me so much, I jest up an’ run away with her; an’ thet’s why Olé Cale, he hates me wuss nor cold pizen!”