class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="15"/>as far as money matters go. I’m my own master in other ways, and I’ve got cash enough to see me through for a while. I understand from Tom that the father of one of you chaps is a guide. I want him to take me into the woods for a few weeks. I’m willing to pay his price, whatever it is.”

“I’m the one,” replied Jerry, soberly; “but my father is laid up with rheumatism, and won’t be able to make any trips this winter.”

“I’m awfully sorry,” said Brick. “Perhaps I can get another guide. Look here, are you fellows in any trouble? You both look pretty downhearted, if you’ll pardon me for saying so.”

The boys were reluctant to speak, but Brick finally compelled them to admit that they were in serious trouble, and that they had come to the dug-out that evening to have a quiet talk over the matter.

Two months before Hamp’s father had been drowned by the foundering of his lumber barge in a storm. What little money he left was soon spent, and now Hamp had just been thrown out of employment by the closing of the mills in which he worked. Unless he speedily found a new place, his mother and sister would be in actual want.

Jerry was confronted by an equally dismal prospect. He could get no work to do, and money was sorely needed for his sick father. His mother had formerly earned a little by sewing, but her time was now required for the invalid.

Brick pondered the situation for a little while. He could see that the boys were proud, and that it would never do to offer money. At last he hit upon a bright idea.

“Look here,” he said, “I’ll bet you fellows know as much about the woods as regular guides. Tom always said so, anyway. How is it?”

“Hamp and I have been out with my father a good deal,” replied Jerry, modestly. “We’ve been to Moosehead Lake and Chesumcook.”

“And we’re pretty fair shots,” added Hamp. “We’ve been in at the death of more than one bear or deer. If it wasn’t for our being so young we might get employment as guides. We were talking about that this evening.”

“I wouldn’t want better guides,” declared Brick. “If you fellows will take me into the woods I’ll pay each of you fifteen dollars a week, and stand all expenses. Before we start I’ll pay in advance for three weeks.”

He opened his pocketbook and showed the contents.

“I can easily afford it,” he added. “I have nearly five hundred dollars.”

The boys were dazzled by this munificent offer. It brought tears to their eyes to think of the relief that money would bring to the afflicted ones at home.

“You’re awfully kind,” said Jerry, in a tremulous voice. “I’ll gladly go if my father will let me. And I’m sure he will.”

“I know my mother won’t object,” added Hamp.

“Then it’s as good as settled,” declared Brick. “I can hardly wait till we’re off. I’ve been wanting to see the Maine wilderness for years.”

“Know much about guns or hunting?” asked Jerry.

“Mighty little,” Brick candidly admitted. “I never shot anything bigger than a blackbird in my life. Game don’t run loose in New York.”

“We’ll show you sport enough,” promised Hamp. “Just wait till we strike the deer.”

The three lads fell to chatting with the freedom of old friends, and Brick quite forgot his aching head.

During the next few days all arrangements were made, and Brick provided himself and companions with a lavish outfit.

Brick had reported his adventure to the police, but without success. Mr. Pendergast had doubtless left the town.

The ground was covered with snow to the depth of half a foot on the crisp December afternoon when the young hunters landed at Katahdin Iron Works—the terminus of the Bangor and Katahdin Iron Works Railroad.

They were now more than one hundred and fifty miles from the coast, and very nearly in the center of Maine.

On the following morning they hired a sledge and driver, and were transported thirty miles northward—to the end of a rugged lumber trail. The next day they pushed ahead on foot, trailing two hand sleds, to which were strapped their provisions, guns, and various needed supplies.

By sundown they reached one of the eastern arms of Moosehead Lake, and built a-temporary lean-to among the rocks and trees. They were now in the actual wilderness, miles and miles from civilization.

After supper that evening a light snow began to fall, but it ceased at midnight. The increased cold wakened Brick, and while he was searching for an extra blanket he heard a long, wailing cry outside.

The youth was scared almost stupid for a moment. Then he tremblingly lit a lantern, and roused his companions.

The boys peeped through the crevices of the lean-to, but they could see nothing. Twice they heard the dismal sound. It was certainly coming nearer. They seized their guns, and huddled close together.

“What do you suppose it is?” whispered Brick.

“A catamount,” replied Jerry, “or Indian Devil, as some call them.”

“That’s right,” added Hamp. “It’s going to attack us, too.”

“Then be ready to shoot,” warned Jerry. “I’ll give the word when the time comes.”

The brute now seemed to have stopped, though the blood-curdling wail echoed several times on the frosty air.

“I saw a catamount in Central Park once,” whispered Brick. “It was an awful-looking creature.”

Just then the unseen prowler wailed again. The boys peered anxiously at the snowy open space before the lean-to.

“No wonder the brute is bold,” exclaimed Hamp. “There’s nothing left of the fire but a couple of hot embers.”

“We must build it up right away,” declared Jerry. “Come on, you fellows. We’ll stick together.”

“But won’t the catamount jump at us?” asked Brick.

“Not while we have the lantern,” assured Jerry. “All wild animals are afraid of fire.”

The boys ventured out of the lean-to. They timidly advanced to the fireplace, which was in the center of the glade.

“Where’s the wood you brought at bedtime?” asked Jerry. “I don’t see it.”

“I—I forgot all about it,” admitted Hamp. “I was too sleepy to think. I’m awfully sorry.”

“Being sorry won’t help us now,” said Jerry, grimly. “There’s not even a stick.”

There was silence for a moment. The boys expected nothing less than to be pounced upon by the hungry beast.

“I believe the catamount has sneaked off,” declared Hamp. “Give me the lantern, and I’ll get some wood. It’s my fault that we have none.”

“I’ll go with you,” replied Jerry. “There’s a windfall under the roots of that dead pine tree. It’s only half-a-dozen yards from here. Come on.”

The two lads started, taking their guns and the lantern. They crossed the glade, and vanished in the timber.

Brick was left standing by the fireplace. He was afraid to go after his companions, nor did he like to be alone. He rested his gun on a stone, and stooped over the dying embers of the fire, trying vainly to fan them into a blaze. As he rose to his feet he heard a crackling noise, and was horrified to see a great, dusky animal crouching on the edge of the timber, directly opposite the spot where the boys had disappeared.

The beast’s arrival was so unexpected that Brick lost his wits. With a yell he turned and dashed across the glade, and