He started toward the corner where he had stood up his gun. The interior of the cabin was fairly light, for Tom had snapped on the permanent switch of his little pocket electric light. “Hold on a minute!” Tom said, placing a hand on his chum’s shoulder. “What are you going to do?” “Don’t go out,” advised Tom. “I don’t believe it’s the bear, to begin with, and, in the second place, if it _is_, you wouldn’t stand any chance of hitting him in this storm. And you might get lost. It’s a regular blizzard outside.” “What makes you think it isn’t the bear?” asked Jack, ignoring Tom’s other reasons. “Well, from the way the dog acts, for one thing,” was the answer. “He didn’t act that way before, when we had a plain sight of the trail, and Towser may even have come close to Bruin himself.” “If it isn’t the bear--who is it--or--what is it?” demanded George. “I don’t know,” was Tom’s frank reply. “Let’s give a yell,” suggested Bert. “Maybe it’s Sam Wilson, or someone who could put us on the right road. I don’t fancy staying here all night if it can be helped. Let’s give a yell.” “All right,” Tom agreed. “Here, Towser,” he went on to the dog, “come in here and behave yourself.” But the animal did not seem so disposed. He remained in the doorway, looking out into the storm, now and then growling hoarsely in his throat, but showing no disposition to dash out. Certainly he was acting very strangely, but whether it was fear or anger the boys could not decide. “Well, whoever it is, or whatever, we’ve got plenty of guns and ammunition,” remarked George. “We haven’t had a decent shot to-day.” Which was very true. They had had great hopes, but that was all. “Come on if we’re going to yell,” suggested Jack. “And if we don’t raise someone, we’ll prepare to stay here. It’s the best we can do, fellows.” They united their voices in a shout, and the dog added to the din by barking. He seemed to feel better when the lads were making as much noise as they could. But the echoes of the boys’ voices, blown back to them by the snow-laden wind, was all the answer they received. They waited, and called again, but no one replied to them. Nor, as at least George half-expected, did they hear the growls of a bear. The wind howled, the snow rattled on the sides and roof of the cabin, for the flakes were almost as hard as sleet. But that was all. “Guess we’ll have to put up at this ‘hotel,’” said Bert, after a pause. The dog had quieted down now, as though whatever had aroused him had passed on. “Let’s take a look around and see what we’ve drawn,” suggested Jack. “If there’s any wood, we can make a fire, and there must be some of that grub left.” “There is,” announced Bert, who had constituted himself a sort of commissary department. “We’ve got some sandwiches, and I can make coffee.”