“Maybe somebody is getting homesick,” observed Boxy, and although he meant it for a joke, there was a little truth in the remark nevertheless, although not one of the boys would have admitted it for the world. Not that they wished to leave camp, only that they would like to have seen the family faces, if only for a brief moment. They soon forgot the idea, however, in the preparations to retire. They helped Pickles haul a log and some brush to the fire, and then carried the various traps to the hut. “Supposing a wolf comes here during the night?” said Boxy, suddenly, with a slight shudder. “Not likely,” rejoined Jack. “But you can sleep with one ear open if you wish.” “I will,” returned Boxy, and he did. Quarter of an hour later every one of the boys had sought his corner and made himself comfortable. Soon all of them but Boxy were asleep. Boxy tried his best to close his eyes, but in vain. He turned and twisted, counted a hundred, made himself a dead weight, and did numerous other things to induce sleep, but without success. He had a wakeful streak on, and when he dozed off it was not alone with one ear open, but with one eye also. Presently he started up and sprang to his feet. Was he mistaken, or had he heard something moving around outside? He listened intently, but no sound but the crackling of the fire reached his ears. “I would be willing to bet anything I heard a strange noise,” he said to himself. “I’m going to investigate, though, before I wake up the other fellows.” And with his blanket still around him, he stepped outside of the hut. A second later Boxy heard a long, low moan from the other side of the creek. He looked across in the direction, and then gave a yell of alarm that brought every one of his companions to his feet with a bound. CHAPTER XX. WHAT COULD IT HAVE BEEN? When the others reached the outside of the hut they found Boxy staring wildly, his eyes fairly bulging from their sockets. His face was a deadly white. “What is it, Boxy?” “What do you see?” “Some wild animal, or what?” “A ghost!” gasped Boxy. “A ghost, as sure as fate!” “Where? where?” “Across the ice--it just disappeared behind the trees!” “There are no ghosts,” returned Jack, in disgust. “Certainly not,” put in Harry. “What did dat ghost look like?” asked Pickles, with interest. He was a firm believer in spirits. “It was tall and white, and had two horns on its head,” replied Boxy, with a shiver. “I never saw such a thing before in my life!” “You must have been dreaming,” suggested Andy, who took his brother’s view of the matter. “I wasn’t dreaming. I heard a noise and got up to see what it was. When I reached outside I heard a low, long moan, and I looked across the creek, and saw it just as plain as day.” “Must have been that extra-heavy supper that didn’t set well on your stomach,” commented Jack.