“I’m going to have a peep around outside.” The others followed, two of them carrying guns. They made a circuit of the cabin in the moonlight, but no other uninvited callers were observed. There were footprints about the shack, however, which showed that the man, whoever he was, had been listening under several of the windows. “Well, he didn’t hear any secrets, for we weren’t talking any,” Tom said with a laugh, as he and his chums went indoors again. “Except to say that we were going to Camp No. 3 to-morrow,” said Bert. “That’s no secret.” But it was the very information the man, who had been eavesdropping under the window, had come to obtain. He ran off with a smile of satisfaction on his evil face. “They’ve got nerve--firing at me!” he muttered, not thinking of his own “nerve” in doing what he had done. The boys were rather alarmed for a while, and quite indignant. They decided to take some harsh measures, if need be, to keep Skeel and his cronies off the game preserve. And with this resolve they went to bed, for they wanted to make an early start the next morning. Ten o’clock the next day found our four friends well on their way to Camp No. 3. They had started their hunt in that general direction. It was an hour later, when, after several false alarms, the dog gave tongue to a peculiar cry. “What’s that?” asked Jack. “It’s a bear!” decided Bert. “Sam said the dog would yelp that way when he struck the trail. Come on, fellows!” They ran forward to rejoin their dog, that had gone on ahead. He was now barking fast and furiously, and had evidently gotten on the track of something. “Yes, it is a bear!” decided Tom, when he had noted the tracks in the snow. “And they’re fresh, too, otherwise the dog couldn’t smell ’em! They won’t lie long on snow. Go on, old sport!” and thus encouraged the dog bounded forward. How the bear came to be out at that time of the year, the boys did not stop to think. But they eagerly followed the trail. It led on through the woods, and they hardly noted their direction. At noon they stopped for a hasty lunch, grudging the time it took, for they were anxious to get sight of the big game. Once more they were on the trail. “But it seems to be getting dark suddenly,” commented Jack. “I wonder if we’d better keep on?” “Certainly--why not?” asked Bert. “The trail is getting fresher all the while. Come on, we’ll have him soon. He’s a big one, too!” Again the boys pressed forward, the dog baying from time to time. CHAPTER XV LOST IN A STORM Either the bear was a better traveler than the boys gave the brute credit for being, or the trail was not as fresh as Bert had supposed. For though they went on and on, they did not see the black ungainly form of Bruin looming up before them.