"Neither, I reckon, Steve. I think it was only the wind rising, and making a moaning sound among some treetops. I've heard it call out in a way to make you think some poor fellow had been caught under a falling tree, and was being slowly crushed to death. Yes, there it goes again, you notice." "But doesn't it sound spooky, though?" ventured Steve, looking hastily over his right shoulder for luck. "Does that spell rain to you, Jack?" "I hardly like to say, but it wouldn't surprise me if we did have a spell of it before morning," the other went on. "I only hope then it'll have the decency to hold off till we're safe back in camp again," Steve ventured. "That tent is guaranteed to shed water in the hardest downpour. Mr. Whitlatch, the town photographer, has tested it many times and promised that it would not leak a drop; only you've got to keep from touching it when wet with your fingers, because that's a bad thing to do, and may start a drip." Both boys found themselves bending over more than at any previous time during the return journey. This was all on account of the gathering darkness, for with the passage of every minute the task of seeing their tracks was becoming more difficult. "This thing is getting pretty tough," wheezed Steve, finally. "I've got fairly decent eyes, but I own up they're going back on me pretty fast trying to pick up our trail of the morning. How far away are we from camp, do you reckon, Jack?" "An hour's tramp yet," he was told with an assurance that surprised Steve. "If you're wondering how I can tell, I'll show you. Don't you remember our stopping to take a good look at this queer twisted tree that seems to be trying to make its straight neighbors support it? Well, I remember that we were just about one full hour out when we got here." "It takes you to notice everything, Jack. I never once thought to pay any attention to our time when we were going, except to count the hours until it would be near noon, and feeding time." "What about that snack you saved over?" chuckled Jack, who knew what the answer was bound to be, because he had often seen Steve nibbling on the sly. "Gone long ago, every crumb of it," came the frank admission, "and right now there's beginning to crop up a strong desire for more grub. I hope Toby thinks to have supper all ready for us when we do get in." Steve was limping more or less now as he trailed along behind the leader. He felt tired, and that heel bothered him again; besides, sheltered by the friendly darkness he thought he was at liberty to shuffle along in any old fashion that offered him the most comfort. "We'll ease up on the eye strain a bit for one thing," Jack was saying as he fumbled at one of his pockets. Suddenly a brilliant shaft of white light shot out ahead of them. Steve gave utterance to a startled cry, in which delight was mingled with surprise.