Bob was the first to get back to the camp. He had, in the three hours, covered nearly ten miles, he thought. He had called Rex’s name till he was hoarse, but only the echo of the forest had answered him.

“Hope one of the others has had better luck,” he thought as he reluctantly turned back.

It was nearly eleven o’clock when he got back, and he was somewhat surprised to find that neither Jack or Kernertok had returned.

Jack, however, was only a few minutes later and Kernertok, with Sicum following close to his heels, came just before half past eleven. All reported the same. No trace of Rex had been found.

“This is a serious matter,” Bob declared. “It isn’t as if he were used to the woods. Any one of us could live almost indefinitely in the woods, but it’s altogether different with a fellow who doesn’t know the ropes, so to speak.”

“Heap bad,” Kernertok shook his head.
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“If only Sicum was all right, we’d have found him long before this,” Jack declared.

“No doubt about that,” Bob agreed. “But that doesn’t help just now. The big question is what are we going to do next?”

“Did he have a revolver with him?” Jack asked.

“I’m pretty sure he didn’t,” Bob replied.

“I reckon he didn’t or we’d have heard him shooting before this.”

“What gets me is where he could have gotten to in so short a time,” Bob mused.

“You don’t suppose that thing that made those tracks has carried him off, do you?”

“Reckon I’d have heard him yell if anything had attacked him,” Bob shook his head, but Jack knew from his expression that the thought had been in his mind.

“White boys stay here an’ Injun go out again,” Kernertok suggested.

“Not much,” Bob replied quickly. “We’ll get dinner and then we’ll all have another try at it and this time we must hunt till we find him.”

“You said something,” Jack agreed.

“Heap good,” Kernertok added.

They made short work of dinner and by twelve o’clock they were ready to start off once more.

“White boys be careful no get lost,” Kernertok warned them.
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“We’ll be all right,” both assured him.

“Now we must go slow and really hunt this time,” Bob said as they were about to start. “We must have passed him somewhere the other time. He couldn’t have gotten so far as we went in the short start he had.”

“Doesn’t seem likely for a fact.”

Each of the three took with him a small amount of food, not so much for himself, but they knew that Rex would be nearly starved when he was found. Not one of them had admitted even to himself that there was a possibility of never finding him.

“Well, so long and good luck,” Bob waved his hand as he disappeared in the woods.

“Here’s hoping,” Jack called back.

“We find um,” Kernertok encouraged them.

Each had taken the same direction as he had on the first trip, judging that they would save a little time, having gone over the ground before.

It was just four o’clock when Rex finally came to a brook.

“Now I’ve got something to go by,” he told himself as he knelt down and drank for a long time. It was the first water he had found and his throat was nearly parched. He had hoped that he would find some berries of some kind, but had not, and he was beginning to feel weak from lack of food.
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The cold water refreshed him somewhat, and after a short rest he started to follow the brook. It was a very crooked stream and the underbrush and bushes were thick along its banks, so that his progress was slow. But he did not dare to try any short cuts, as he feared he might lose it. It had been cloudy all day and darkness came on early.

“Guess I won’t be able to reach the lake to-day,” he panted, as he stumbled and fell headlong over a stick. “Guess one place is as good as another to camp and I’m going to stop right here. My but I’d give a lot for something to eat,” he muttered, as he picked himself up.

Only a few feet to his right was a thick clump of cedars, and he was moving toward it, thinking it would be a good place for a bed, when an ear-splitting yell made him jump back with a suddenness, which caused him to strike his heel on a stick and send him sprawling on his back. In falling his head struck a rock and for a moment he lay half stunned. Another yell from the clump of cedars brought him to his senses and he slowly got to his knees.

“I’ll bet there’s no fake about that wild cat,” he thought, rubbing the back of his head.
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Bob had told him that a wild cat will seldom attack a man unless it is cornered, but if there should be two of them together they will sometimes take the initiative. All this passed through his mind as he was getting to his feet. He stood for a moment, his head still reeling from the contact with the stone. Another fierce shriek sent him rushing away toward the brook. He fancied that the last yell differed somewhat from the others, indicating that there were two cats in that clump of cedars.

“All right kitty-cat. You got there first, and I have no intention of turning you out of your bed,” he said as he reached the brook and crossed over to the other side. Somehow he felt safer with the brook between him and the cat.

In spite of the rapidly increasing darkness, he stumbled along down the stream, determined to put as much distance as possible between himself and the wild cat. Many times he fell headlong as his foot tripped on a root or hit against a stone. He stopped and listened every few minutes to determine whether or not the cat was following him.

“I don’t suppose I could hear it if it was,” he thought.

In a short time it grew so dark that he was obliged to stop whether or no. He thought that he had come at least a half mile from the clump of cedars. He had not heard the yell again and hoped that the cat had not followed him.

“I never knew what it was to be really hungry,” he thought as he drank once more from the brook.
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Climbing up the steep bank, which at this point was about eight feet high, he groped his way about until he felt an open space at the foot of a large tree. The ground was hard, but he did not mind it, as he stretched himself out at full length.

Fortunately the night was warm and he did not suffer from the cold. His head ached slightly from the blow he had received, but he was asleep almost at once.

It was still dark when he awoke, and for some minutes he lay trying to make out where he was. Then as memory returned he raised himself on one elbow and looked about him. It was very dark and he could hardly see his hand before his face. He was about to sink back again when a slight rustle to his right caught his ear. He turned his head and the next moment his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. There, not ten feet from where he lay, he saw two balls of greenish fire. They were about four feet from the ground and his horror increased as he saw the next moment two more similar balls a few feet to the left of the first pair.

“There are two of them and they have followed me,” he thought.

It would be hard to find a more ferocious animal for its size than the wild cat of northern Maine. Growing often to a weight of forty pounds, their long claws are like needles and pitted against an unarmed man the latter is almost helpless against their furious clawing and biting.
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As he lay there too unnerved to think, suddenly one of the cats gave a blood-curdling yell, and before it had died out the other joined in. Galvanized into action he started to get to his feet, and as he did so his hands touched a rock about the size of his fist. Hardly realizing what he was doing he picked it up and, taking hasty aim, threw it with all his might at the nearer pair of eyes. He did not wait to see what the effect of his throw might be, but turned and ran toward the brook. Another, and if possible, a more terrifying shriek followed him as he fled. He did not realize how near he was to the bank, and before he could stop himself he was rolling over and over, landing somewhat bruised, but otherwise unhurt in about two feet of water. He scrambled to his feet and, shaking the water from his eyes, for his head had gone completely under, started to wade to the opposite bank. The stream at this point was about twelve feet wide, with a rocky bottom.

He had gotten about half way across when he felt with his outstretched hands a large rock just in front of him. Quickly he clambered up onto it.

“Reckon I’d better anchor here awhile till I get the lay of the situation,” he thought. “I don’t believe those cats will swim for the sake of sampling me.”
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Another shriek interrupted his thoughts, and looking toward the shore he could again see the balls of fire.

Sitting on the rock in his wet clothes was anything but comfortable, but under the circumstances Rex felt very well satisfied with the situation.

“I’d a whole lot rather be wet than clawed into ribbons,” he told himself.

Soon the pair of eyes were joined by the second pair, and the two big cats whined as if they realized that they had, for the time being at least, lost the game.

The weather had turned slightly colder during the night and Rex shivered as he crouched on his perch.

“Pretty pussy,” he called. “Sorry to disappoint you, but safety first, you know.”

While he felt that he was safe for the time at least, his position was anything but comfortable. The rock was barely large enough for him to sit on and he did not dare leave it. In his wet clothes his teeth chattered with the cold, although it was not what he would have called a cold night under ordinary circumstances. Water must have gotten into his watch when he went under, for it had stopped, and he had no way of telling the time.

“Not that it would have made much difference,” he told himself as he held the watch to his ear. “Every match that I’ve got is as wet as I am.”
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From time to time, first one of the cats and then the other would shatter the silence with its agonizing yell.

Rex wondered with a great deal of anxiety if they would go away with the coming of daylight. He had heard that the wild cat did most of its hunting during the night, but, as he told himself, he was not at all certain that they kept union hours.

“It seems to me that with all the rabbits and other small animals running around here you fellows ought to be able to keep from starving without serving me up. Guess you don’t know how tough I am,” he told the cats, and was answered by an angry snarl.

“Don’t agree with me, eh? Well, we won’t argue the question. I suppose we have different points of view on the subject, but I do wish that we could arbitrate.”

Slowly the time passed, although he had no way of telling just how slowly. But it seemed almost an eternity before he noticed the first hint of the coming dawn. So slowly as to be almost imperceptible the darkness began to lift, and he knew that day was at hand. Would the cats give it up and go? That was the question which he asked himself over and over again.

“If they don’t, I guess I’ll have to close with them and have it out. The winner can eat the victim. No use of all of us starving,” he said half aloud.
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Soon he was able to make out the form of one of the cats as it paced back and forth close to the water’s edge. He was surprised at the size of the beast.

“Gee, I didn’t know you grew that big,” he said. “Guess I’ll have to revise my last statement. You can stare as long as you like, so far as I’m concerned.”

Only the one cat was in sight and he concluded that the other must have given up and gone off.

“Mebby he’s gone to get breakfast for his companion,” he thought. “And that reminds me that I haven’t had mine yet. Ugly as you look, kittie, I don’t believe you want to eat me a bit more than I want to eat you. Wish I had a fish line along,” he thought, feeling through his pockets without success. “I believe I could relish a trout raw. But I don’t suppose they’d take a hook without any bait on it even if I had one.”

As soon as it was light enough for him to see distinctly he determined to wade down the brook—cat or no cat.

“Might as well take a chance as to stay here and starve,” he thought as he let himself down from the rock into the water, which came a little above his knees.

The cat, seeing him move, gave an angry snarl.
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“Can’t help it if you don’t like it, pussy. You can’t have everything your own way in this cold world.”

He found that he could make fairly good progress and keep to the middle of the stream. In places there were rocks where he could leap from one to the other for some distance. Again he would have to wade, at times nearly to his waist. The big cat followed him along the bank, snarling and at times giving its yell.

“There’s no use getting so mad about it, kitty,” he told him as he paused waist-deep in the water. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I didn’t ask you to come along. Why don’t you run along home if you don’t like it? I won’t be lonesome without you. In fact, I’d rather you would go.”

But for along time the cat evidenced no intention of giving up. Rex estimated that he had jumped and waded for all of two miles, and the cat seemed as determined as ever.

“Believe I’ll try taking the offensive,” he thought, as he came to a shallow place near the middle of the stream.

He stooped down and picked up a rock about the size of his fist, and with all the force he could muster, threw it. The rock caught the cat in the side and bowled it over. But it was up in a second, snarling and yelling.
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“Take your base,” Rex shouted, as he stooped for another rock.

The cat was not more than seven feet away, and the second stone caught it square on the nose. Without a sound, save for a lone whine, the cat fell on its side and gave a few convulsive kicks and was still.

“Batter’s out,” Rex yelled, as he stood and watched the animal. “I really believe I’ve killed it,” he mused a moment later, as the cat gave no sign of life. “Now what do you know about that? Didn’t know I was that good, but I guess the old wing hasn’t forgot how it used to strike ’em out.”

Convinced after some moments of watching that the cat was really dead, he waded over and stood gazing at it.

“You’d never take a prize in a beauty show, but I’m sure glad I got you instead of you getting me,” he muttered. “If I only had some way of making a fire, I believe I’d sample you, ugly as you look, but I don’t believe I can quite go you raw just yet. But that friend of yours had better stay away, unless he wants to get sampled.”

With renewed courage he started off down the stream once more, after pulling his belt up a couple of notches.

“Hope I find something to eat before this belt buckle meets itself,” he grinned.
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This time his hopes were realized, for he had gone not more than a hundred yards when he came upon a raspberry patch. The bushes hung red with the big, luscious berries, and his heart leaped for joy as he saw them. It was characteristic of him that before eating a berry he knelt down and whispered a brief but earnest prayer of thankfulness.

“I never knew that anything could taste so good,” he thought, as berry followed berry into his mouth.

He ate as many as he dared, but far from what he wanted, knowing that it would be dangerous to overload his stomach in its present condition. Then he made, not without considerable difficulty, owing to his inexperience, a basket of birch bark, which would hold several quarts. This he filled in a short time, and after eating a few more, he again set off down the stream.

As he trudged along he wondered that his friends had not found him, but he failed to take into account the vastness of the forest and the fact that sound waves, broken by the thickly growing trees, do not carry so far in the woods as in the open.

From the position of the sun he judged it to be about noon, when he suddenly emerged from the thick woods and found himself on the shore of a lake.

“Now the big question is whether or not this is the right lake,” he thought as he looked out upon its surface.
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He fancied that it was not so large as the lake where they had camped two nights before, but he could not be sure.

“Guess the only thing to do is to follow the shore around,” he mused, as he sat down on a rock to eat his dinner of berries. “They are mighty good, but not what you’d call filling, and as for variety, it reminds me of the butcher who said he had pig, pork, hog and swine.”

He rested for an hour, knowing that it was necessary to conserve his strength, and then started off to circle the lake. It was hard going from the first, as the shore, in many places, was marshy and he had to make long detours.

“Reckon it’ll take about a week at this rate,” he thought as he noticed that the sun was getting low in the west.

He stopped to eat a few more of the berries and was about to start again when he was electrified by a sound. It came from what seemed a great distance. He was not sure that he had really heard the call. He realized that it is easy to imagine that one hears his name called, so he waited and listened. In a moment it came again, and this time he was sure that it was no fancy.

“Hello-o-o-o,” he shouted at the top of his voice.

“Rex-x-x-x,” came back the answer.
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“It’s Bob for a fact,” he exulted. “Here I am,” he called.

“Stay right where you are and I’ll find you.”

Rex sat down calling from time to time to guide his friend, and in about fifteen minutes Bob came in view.

“Thank God, I’ve found you at last,” the latter cried as he grasped Rex by the hand. “It’s sure been a long trail.”

“It has seemed so to me,” Rex assured him.

“Had anything to eat?”

“Only these,” and he held up the half-filled basket.

Bob quickly threw off his pack and in another moment they were both eating sandwiches.

“Um, lapping good,” Rex declared as he reached for another.

“Better wait a bit before you tackle a second one,” Bob advised.

“All right. You’re the doctor, but I’ll tell you right now, that I could eat all you can carry and then holler for more.”

“I don’t doubt it. But if you did I’d have you to carry in place of the grub.”

The first pangs of hunger appeased, Rex told of his adventures.

“You say you killed that cat with a stone?” Bob asked when he had come to that part of the narrative.
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“Well, he seemed dead to me. Of course, if he had nine lives like domestic cats, he may have eight left to enjoy, but I’m dead certain that I deprived him of one of them.”

“Sometimes you think they’re killed when they’re only stunned. They sure are tough customers, and whether they have nine lives or only one, they certainly take a lot of killing. All I’ve got to say is that you were mighty lucky.”

“Guess you’re right.”

“I’d rather run into a bear any day than one of those fellows when he is on the war path.”

“I’ll leave them alone in the future if they’ll return the compliment,” Rex assured him.

“Just a minute,” Bob said, “I forgot something,” and taking his revolver from his pocket, he fired two shots close together.

“That’s the signal that you’re found,” he explained, as he fired twice more. “Don’t know whether the others are near enough to hear ’em or not, but it’s the best I can do.”

“Is this the lake we were on?”

“Not much. This is Priestly Lake.”

“How far away are we?”

“About ten miles, I should judge.”

“Can we make it to-day?”

“That’s up to you. We’ve got about three hours of daylight left.”
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“Well, if you’ll let me have one more of those sandwiches I’ll make a big stab at it.”

“All right. But you eat it slowly.”

“Which way would you say it is?” Bob asked as they were about to start.

Rex looked about a moment and then pointed.

“You’d have to go just twenty-five thousand miles in that direction to get there,” Bob laughed.

“Then let’s go the other way by all means.”

They struck off through the forest. Bob, knowing that Rex was already tired, set a slow pace. To tell the truth, he was pretty tired himself, but he was more used to tramping through the woods. Still they made good time and it was only partly dark when Bob announced that it was only about a mile more to the camp.

“How you can find your way through these woods is a mystery to me,” Rex panted, as they stopped for a short rest.

Bob laughed. “I guess it’s a kind of an instinct that one acquires after a while, and then Kernertok has taught us a lot about it. You see, you can always tell the points of the compass by the bark on the trees. I’ll show you how to do it sometime.”
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Neither Jack or the Indian had returned when at last, tired almost to the point of exhaustion, they reached the camp. They had been in but a short time, however, when Kernertok, followed by the dog, carrying his tail between his legs, arrived. The old man looked very downcast at first, but his stolid face lighted up as he caught sight of Rex.

“You find um, heap good,” he grunted.

The Indian did not seem at all tired, and he at once set about building a fire. He would not listen to the boys’ offer to help, insisting that they were “heap tired,” an accusation which they did not even try to dispute.

“Injun have supper heap soon,” he promised as he hurried about his work.

“I do hope Jack isn’t lost,” Rex said anxiously, as he stretched on his bed of spruce boughs.

“You needn’t worry any about him. He—”

Before he had time to finish the sentence the shrill call of the whip-poor-will rang through the woods.

“There he is now. Listen!”

“Whooo! Whooo! Whooo!”

“I’d swear that was an owl if I didn’t see you do it,” Rex declared.

“Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!”

“Jack can beat me all to hollow when it comes to imitations, but that is a signal we’ve had for a long time,” Bob told him.

It was only a few moments before Jack came trudging in and he gave a loud whoop of joy as he caught sight of Rex.