Yes, there it was again. A shrill cry far away sounding like a young child in pain. He listened to see if the cry had disturbed any of the others but everything was perfectly still, save for the murmuring of the spruce boughs as they swayed gently in the light breeze.

“Nothing but a wild cat,” he thought as he sank back and closed his eyes. But the next moment he had sat up again.

“Now that’s mighty funny,” he mused. “If that’s a four legged animal then I’m an alligator.”

Again the strange sound rang through the night seeming to be a little nearer. And now he heard Jack, who was close by his side, move.

“What was that noise?”

“Just what I’ve been wondering,” Bob replied in a low whisper.

“Sounded like a wild cat.”

“Just what I thought at first but you never heard a wild cat make a noise exactly like that. Listen.”
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“It’s a bit too shrill and kinder wobbly like for a genuine cat.” Jack was quite positive in his statement.

“Think it’s a signal?”

“Might be, but there doesn’t seem to be any answer.”

For some little time the cry was repeated at frequent intervals but it did not seem to come any nearer and finally each time it sounded farther away until they could barely hear it. Nothing which could be interpreted as an answer, if it indeed were a signal, had reached their ears.

“Mebby it was a cat after all,” Jack whispered.

“Perhaps so. Anyhow I’m going to sleep.”

“I say, any you fellows seen my rifle?”

It was early the following morning. Bob was busy frying flap jacks and the Indian and Rex were rolling the bedding. Jack asked the question after he made a thorough search of the camp.

“Where’d you leave it?” Bob asked.

“I’m not sure but I thought I placed it right beside my bed.”

“Well, you know what thought did. You’ll probably find it right where you left it if you look long enough.”

“It’s mighty funny,” Jack mused as he made another search. “Come to think of it I’m dead certain I put it there.”
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Just then Bob called that breakfast was ready and as soon as the meal was over all joined in the search for the rifle. But they failed to locate it.

“Now what do you know about that?” Jack asked after he had looked under his bed of boughs for the fourth time.

“Heap queer. Rifle she gone.”

“You’re right it’s heap queer and then some,” Bob agreed. “But who’s seen Sicum this morning?”

“Sicum heap gone too,” Kernertok said, a look of puzzled amazement on his stoical face.

“Mebby he’s chasing a rabbit,” Rex suggested.

“Sicum no leave camp till Injun up,” Kernertok shook his head.

“Well, that rifle’s gone and Sicum’s gone. Wonder what’ll go next,” and Jack, too, shook his head.

“But that gun never walked away of its own accord,” Bob assured him.

Jack was about to make some reply when an exclamation from Rex, who had gone down by the shore, halted him.

“Come here a minute.”

“Now what?” Bob asked as they hastened to where Rex was gazing at something on the sand.

“What kind of tracks do you call them?” he asked as soon as they had reached his side. He pointed at some marks the likes of which neither of the boys had ever seen.
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The tracks, at which the boys looked in amazement, were nearly circular in shape and plainly showed the imprint of six toes. They led from the water’s edge along the shore for a distance of some twenty feet then turned sharply to the left and were lost in the dense woods.

“What do you make of them, Kernertok?” Bob asked.

But the old Indian shook his head.

“Heap big tracks. No seen um before.”

“Nor I,” Bob agreed. “I never heard of an animal in Maine, or anywhere else for that matter, that would make a mark like that.”

“Mebby that’s the bug that swiped my gun,” Jack suggested.

“Mebby um eat up Sicum, one mouthful,” Kernertok joined in.

“I reckon it could do it,” Jack asserted. “Just see how far apart they are: all of five feet, and that means some beast for size.”

For nearly two hours they hunted for the lost dog but not a trace of him could they find. Time and time again the Indian sent through the forest the peculiar whistle with which he was wont to summon him.

“He ought to hear that if he’s within ten miles,” Rex declared.
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Finally they were obliged to give over the search and reluctantly began to pack the things in the canoe. There was but little talk each being busy with his own thoughts. All, including the Indian, sensed a mystery in the air which seemed unexplainable. Both Bob and Jack knew that Kernertok was in the depths of despair, not only because of the loss of his beloved dog but because something had happened in the woods for which he could give no accounting. It was a severe blow to the old man’s pride.

“Do you think that those cries we heard in the night had anything to do with it?” Jack whispered to Bob, Rex and Kernertok being a short distance off.

“Don’t see how, do you?”

“Hardly. And yet—” Jack paused, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“And yet what?”

“Bob, do you believe an animal made those tracks?” he asked.

“Frankly no.”

“Neither do I. But if that’s right, what’s the answer?”

“Somebody’s trying to scare us.”

“You said it.”

It was nearly ten o’clock when they finally pushed off and started up the lake.
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Chamberlain Lake is nearly twenty miles long but they had hit about half way up and after a little more than ten miles of paddling they reached Eagle Lake.

Eagle Lake is really a part of Chamberlain Lake and is nearly fifteen miles long.

“I wonder why they gave the two parts of this lake different names,” Rex said.

“Oh, I suppose they had more names than lakes, although, goodness knows, there are more lakes around here than there are fleas on a dog,” Jack laughed.

“How many more carries have we got to make?” Rex asked.

“According to the map we haven’t any,” Bob replied. “How about it, Kernertok? Any more carries before we strike Allagash?”

“No more. We paddle um all way now,” the Indian told them.

“That’s certainly good news,” Rex declared. “About one more carry like that last one and I’m afraid you’d have to carry me out on a stretcher.”

“Look ahead there, Rex!” Jack cried a little later. “Isn’t he a beaut?”

“What is it?”

“A bull moose, and a big one.”

The huge animal was perhaps a hundred yards from the canoe when Jack first sighted him and was swimming at right angles to their course.
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“Make it snappy, Bob, and let’s see how near we can get to him before he reaches the shore,” Jack cried, and the two paddlers dug their blades deep into the water.

“Are they dangerous?” Rex asked.

“Not at this time of the year,” Jack told him. “But in the late fall, when they are mating, you want to give them a wide berth unless you are well armed and then you want to shoot to kill the first time.”

“I reckon so,” Rex mused. “I wouldn’t like to get tossed with those horns.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jack laughed. “In fact, quite the opposite, as the sea-sick passenger said when one asked him if he had had breakfast.”

“What would he do to you then? Do they bite?”

“Hardly. He’d trample you to death with his sharp hoofs and, believe me, they are some tramplers.”

By this time they had cut down the distance between them and the moose by nearly one half, although the big animal was ploughing his way rapidly through the water.

“I’ll say he’s some swimmer,” Rex declared. “Gee, but I wish I had my camera along. What a picture that would make.”
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They had come to within about twenty yards of the moose when he reached the shore. As he waded out onto the rocks he turned for an instant and stood looking at them as much as to say, “Well, I guess I beat you to it all right,” then turned and bounded away into the thick forest.

“I wouldn’t have missed that for a good deal,” Rex declared as soon as the moose had disappeared.

“You’re lucky,” Bob told him. “It isn’t very often that you get to see one of those fellows now days.”

It was late afternoon and they had nearly reached the upper end of the lake. They had made no stop for dinner but had eaten a light lunch in the canoe, as they wished to make up for lost time. Rex and Jack had, for short stretches, relieved Bob and the Indian at the paddles and, although Rex was not very skillful at it, nevertheless he was rapidly catching the knack and they had made excellent progress.

“Look over on the shore opposite here, Bob,” Jack said suddenly. “See, on that big rock just in front of that tall pine.”

“I see. It looks like a dog.”

“It’s either a dog or a wolf. What do you think Kernertok?”

“Injun no see good enough. Mebby um Sicum. You think?”

“It’s too far away to tell,” Bob replied. “But we’ll paddle over that way and see.”

They changed their course and headed toward the opposite shore.
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“Upon my soul, I believe it is Sicum,” Jack declared a little later.

The Indian raised his paddle for a moment and a shrill, peculiar whistle floated over the lake.

“Hark,” he warned.

“It’s Sicum,” Bob and Jack spoke in the same breath as a low but distinct bark answered the Indian’s call.

“Now what do you know about that?” Rex asked as soon as all doubt regarding the identity of the animal was settled. “Where do you suppose he’s been and why?”

“Don’t know to both questions,” Bob replied.

Although the Indian gave no outward show of emotion, all three boys knew that the old man was overjoyed at the return of his companion. As for Sicum, he made no concealment of his emotions. As the canoe approached the rock on which he stood he jumped up and down in a perfect frenzy of joy, all the time giving utterance to short, happy barks. When the canoe at last touched the rock he nearly upset it as he leaped aboard.

“You one fool dog,” the Indian grunted as he seized him by his collar. “Where you been, eh?”

“If he could only talk he might clear up some of this mystery,” Rex declared.
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“I wish he had brought my rifle back with him,” Jack laughed.

A little later they reached the head of the lake where a small stream entered and there they made camp for the night.

“I think we’d better set a watch to-night,” Bob suggested as they were making their beds. “We don’t want any more of our stuff to disappear and for some reason which I can’t explain, I don’t feel like depending on Sicum,” he added in a low voice so that the Indian could not hear.

“It’s a mighty funny thing,” Jack said. “Before last night I’d have felt perfectly safe with that dog here. How in the world anyone could have gotten into camp without him letting us know about it is a mystery to me.”

“Same here. There’s something positively uncanny about it.”

“Well, I’ll take the first watch till eleven o’clock, and then I’ll call you,” Jack proposed.

But when the matter was mentioned to Kernertok, the Indian shook his head.

“I fix Sicum so he no get away dis time,” he declared.

But later the boys resolved that they would keep watch just the same, without letting Kernertok know of it.
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“I’ll call you at three,” Bob said to Rex. “Kernertok hates to give up confidence in Sicum, and I can’t blame him at that. He can’t bear the thought that we’re not perfectly safe with the dog in camp and it would about break his heart to know that we were on guard, so we’ll have to be mighty careful not to disturb him, and it doesn’t take very much, let me tell you.”

“But how about the dog?” Rex asked. “Won’t he hear us and make a rumpus?”

“Oh, he’ll hear us all right, but as he knows us, I guess he won’t make any fuss,” Bob assured him.

“How are you going to fix Sicum so he can’t get away?” Bob asked the Indian a little later.

They were about to retire for the night and the Indian made no reply, but from his pocket took a small chain about four feet in length. One end he fastened to the dog’s collar and the other he tied about his wrist.

“That ought to hold him,” Jack laughed.

“Me think so. Take heap much get him away,” he grunted.
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Jack waited until, from his deep breathing, he was certain that the Indian was asleep, and then he crept softly from his bed of boughs. Sicum uttered a low growl once which woke his master, but the latter spoke to him in a low tone and the dog remained quiet. Jack crept on his hands and knees to a big spruce about ten feet from where they were sleeping and toward the shore and sat down with his back against it.

The night was cloudy, not even a star showing in the heavens, and it was intensely dark, so that he was unable to see even his hand when he held it in front of his face.

“Guess I’ll have to trust entirely to my ears,” he thought. “Eyes are no good to-night.”

It was so still that he could plainly hear the beating of his own heart. Not a sound save the gentle lap of the water against the stones on the shore of the lake, some twelve feet from where he sat, reached his ears. There was no wind and even the usual sighing of the branches was absent.

“I believe you could hear a pin drop if there was anyone here to drop it,” he mused.

Several times he caught himself yawning, but he was afraid to get up and move around for fear of disturbing the dog. However, he managed to keep awake with a good deal of difficulty. Along toward eleven o’clock a light breeze sprang up and a little later it began to rain.

“Looks like we were in for a storm,” he told himself.

It started to rain as if it meant it, but soon settled to a thin drizzle.
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“Thought you promised to wake me at eleven,” a voice whispered almost in his ear.

“I didn’t promise at all. It was simply proposed.”

“Heard or seen anything?”

“Haven’t heard a thing, and as for seeing, a regular menagerie could pass within a foot of you and you’d never know it.”

“I guess that’s right, but you get to bed now.”

“I don’t believe there’s any use in watching any longer to-night.”

“I’ll bet you wouldn’t say that if it was your turn,” Bob grinned.

“Huh, don’t you fool yourself.”

“Never do.”

“Looks like we were in for a spell o’ weather.”

“Sure does. But this isn’t getting to bed.”

“I’ll bet you go to sleep,” Jack whispered, as he crept off toward his bed.

“And I’ll bet I don’t,” Bob replied, but Jack was too far away to hear him.

It was nearly one o’clock, as he saw by the luminous face of his wrist watch, when he heard the same cry that had awakened him the night before. It was very faint at first, but each time it was repeated it came nearer, till he judged that it was within a half a mile.
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“Funny it doesn’t wake any of them,” he thought as he crept softly down toward the lake.

As he approached the water’s edge he felt, rather than saw or heard, that something was near him. He listened intently. Not a sound, save the lap of the water and the gentle sough of the rain as it fell on the trees, came to him. And still that vague feeling of the nearness of some large object persisted.

“Wonder if I’m going bugs,” he thought, as he tried in vain to pierce the darkness.

For several minutes he had not heard the cry, but now it came again, and so near was it that all the sleepers were awakened.

“For goodness sake, what was that?” he heard Rex ask.

“Was that a wild cat, Kernertok?” Jack put the question.

“Listen,” he heard the Indian order.

For a moment all was still and then the cry was repeated, even nearer than before.

“Heap like cat almost, but not quite,” he heard Kernertok reply.

“That’s what I thought when I heard it last night,” Jack told him.

“You hear um las’ night?”

“Yes, but it wasn’t so near then.”
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“Injun no hear. Sleep heap too sound,” Bob could distinguish the note of disgust in the Indian’s voice. “Where, Bob?” he heard him ask.

“Guess he’s around somewhere,” Jack replied evasively.

“I’m down here by the lake,” Bob shouted. “Bring a flash light here a minute.”

“See anything?” Jack asked, as he joined him a moment later.

“No.”

“Hear anything?”

“Not a thing, but I’d take my oath that there was something here just the same.”

“How do you know, when you couldn’t see it or hear it?”

“Guess I felt it.”

“Well, what did it feel like?”

“I didn’t exactly feel it, you know. I guessed it was here perhaps would be nearer the truth?”

“Well, here’s the light. What are you going to do with it?”

“I want to see if there are any of those tracks.”

“They’re here, sure as guns,” Jack cried a moment later as, by the aid of the flash light, he pointed to a row of tracks identical with those they had seen before. They seemed to emerge from the water and led a short distance along the shore, till they disappeared in the woods.
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“It’s a cinch that no four-footed native of Maine ever made those tracks,” Jack insisted.

“Guess we’re agreed on that,” Bob assured him.

“Then the big question is, what or who did make them.”

“Suppose you answer it?”

“I will before the summer’s over.”

Kernertok shook his head when he saw the tracks. It was clear that he was thoroughly puzzled.

“Suppose we wait till daylight and then try to track it with Sicum,” Bob suggested. “He ought to be able to follow that trail. How about it Kernertok?”

“Sicum no same dog. Him heap fool now,” and Kernertok shook his head mournfully.

For the first time the boys noticed that the dog was acting strangely. Keeping as close as possible to his master’s feet, he showed every evidence of fear.

“That’s the first time I ever saw Sicum with his tail between his legs,” Jack whispered.

“Well, don’t blame him,” Bob cautioned. “It is plain that something has happened to him which has frightened him about to death, and remember, it would take a good bit to scare that dog.”

“I’ll tell the world it would,” Jack agreed.

As it now lacked but a couple of hours until day break, they decided to stay awake and keep watch.
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“I don’t believe we could go to sleep any way,” Rex said.

The rain had stopped, although it had not as yet cleared off. They returned to their beds and rolled themselves in their blankets, which were fairly dry, despite the rain, so thick were the branches overhead. For a time they talked in low tones, but the conversation soon died out, seemingly of its own accord, and, in spite of their determination to stay awake, one after the other they drifted off until only the Indian was awake. Although, as he had said, he slept soundly he needed but little sleep, and it was not difficult for him to keep his eyes open.

Kernertok was deeply troubled. It hurt his pride to be unable to explain anything found in the forest. But he had been obliged to acknowledge that the mysterious tracks were entirely new to him and the disappearance of the rifle and dog the night before was no less puzzling to him. Added to these was the strange behavior of the dog since his return. Never before had he known the dog to show the slightest sign of fear. Always eager to attack anything, no matter what its size. The Indian had more than once saved the life of his companion when the latter was exhausted after making a desperate stand against heavy odds. But now he cringed when spoken to, as though he expected a mortal blow. Sicum’s spirit was broken. Of that the Indian was sure. But what could have happened to so quickly change an animal without fear into a cringing coward? Long the Indian brooded over the question.
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The dog lay by his master’s side and mechanically the Indian reached out one hand and ran his fingers through the shaggy coat. Almost immediately he felt the animal shrink from his touch, at the same time giving vent to a low whine as of pain. And suddenly one question was answered in the mind of the Indian, or rather partly answered. He knew why the dog was afraid. As his fingers felt the hide beneath the curley hair they encountered great whelts, which seemed to run nearly around the body. Sicum whined softly as his fingers touched the sore places, and then, creeping closer, he laid his head across his lap as though glad that his master at last understood.

“Heap good dog,” the Indian grunted as he stroked the broad head.

It was broad daylight when the boys awoke. It was not raining, although heavy leaden colored clouds covered the sky and a strong wind was blowing from the northeast.

“We’re a lively bunch, not,” Jack declared as he got slowly to his feet and shook the kinks out of his legs.
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“And then some,” Bob agreed sheepishly.

“Count me in on that,” Rex insisted as he, too, jumped about to get the stiffness out of his limbs.

Getting up in the morning in the woods when everything is wet and the temperature hovering around fifty-five is not conducive to high spirits, and, as Jack put it, they were about as cheerful as a wet blanket. But Kernertok already had a good fire going and the odor of boiling coffee did much to banish the blue devils.