"My, my! I mustn't go off like this," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It won't do to take a snooze here." For a time he fought off the drowsiness, only to find it coming over him more and more strongly. Oh, how nice it was out here in the woods. There was a gentle wind, the leaves seemed to rustle and whisper to him. Ah! He was floating away--away--off--off--to the land--of nod--to--the--land--of--nod--the--land--of--nod--nod--nod! Then! Roger was fast asleep! No! Not asleep! He was on the verge. Just going to tumble over into the finest feather bed he ever knew, when there was a noise that sounded like a clap of thunder. Crash! Roger sat up, clutching the tree, against which he leaned, with a grip of terror. His heart was going like a trip-hammer. There was the echo of a great roaring in his ears. For a second he could not tell where he was. Then came another noise, less loud. Snap! Ah! It was only the breaking of a twig. He calmed down. But what did it mean? Somebody must be coming to find him. Of course, that was it. Adrian and his father were searching. Roger leaped to his feet. He peered into the darkness. "Here I am, Adrian!" he called. "Here I am! Hey! Here's Roger!" The echo of his own cry was the only answer. Then came another crackle of the twigs, as if some one was approaching nearer. Roger strained his eyes into the black depths of the forest. He could make out nothing. Then, as he kept his gaze fixed on one spot, he saw something which seemed to chill his heart. It was two small balls of greenish-red fire, and they looked right at him. At the same time there came to the boy's ears the sound of an angry snarl. CHAPTER VIII FIGHTING A WILD-CAT For one fearful moment Roger felt a cold chill go creeping down his spine, and he shivered in dread at the nameless thing which stood growling there before him. He knew it must be some kind of a wild beast, but what he hardly dared think. "A bear!" he whispered, and he shrank closer against the tree. Then he recalled what his aunt had said when Mr. Kimball had joked about the denizens of the forest. She said there were no bears. "Nothing worse than wild-cats," he remembered she had told him, and, though to the frightened boy this was terrible enough, he was glad to know it was not a bear which he could dimly see the outline of. The thing, whatever it was, kept up its short, angry snarls, and Roger could hear the sharp claws tearing at the bark of the fallen log. He gazed at the two circles of greenish-red fire in a sort of fascination.