Jerry was so glad to be free of the small brother he would not have cared if the climb went still higher, but when Mr. Doane held out his strong arms, down came the little Peter Pan ker-plunk! He had no intention of missing the snake hunt.
“Come along, girls,” called out Mr. Doane when the petulant Peter Pan had been once more disposed of. “If you don’t want to hunt snakes make it b’ars! Big black woolly ones, that old Sam Sykes is always insisting he used to chum with up in this baby mountain. Gloria, you know the worn trail, but don’t get out of speaking distance. We boys will head for the first slant, over toward the big tree, and if we don’t find snakes, or bears—”
“We’ll find deers,” shouted Jerry, ignoring the regular way of making the plural. “Nort Sloane saw a deer up here last week!”
“All right,” laughed Mr. Doane. “Snakes, b’ars or deer, all the same to the hunters. But don’t use sling-shots, now, boys,” as Ralph and George examined a suspicious bit of string. “Sling-shots are not safe in mixed company.”
“Oh! Come here, quick!” yelled Ranny, in tones that made the others respond promptly.
“Whereabouts?” asked Jerry, the fearless.
“He’s—he’s behind that—rock!” panted Ranny, pointing to a huge boulder that in size almost matched the county landmark.
“Got—got anything—to get—him with?” gasped Arthur Williams, creeping up toward the path-finder Ranny, but managing to keep pretty well behind him.
“Don’t make any noise,” cautioned Ranny. “I saw him first near the spring, and when I whistled—! Sh-s-s-h!” came the sibilant warning. “I saw—him—move!”
Two or three steps over the crunching brush and the boys made a sudden plunge to get under cover—of anything. An object had moved! It sounded like a small animal and it moved in bounds and leaps. By this time the remainder of the hiking party realized something new was in prospect. Mr. Doane was with the girls, who had insisted upon obtaining some perilously perched wild columbine, while the remainder of the boys were scattered about near Moon Rock. But now there was a sudden change of base, and the squad presented battle formation at the trunk of the biggest and roundest tree.
There was no need for explanation. The secret signal that shouts danger, was bristling from the red hair of Tommy, and from the black curls of Neddie, and every little gasp of the others fairly echoed to the four ends of the earth, in the silent language of hikers.