explained to Ollie, and then dropped off sound asleep. I don't
know how long it was, but after some time I was again roused up
by a nervous shake.

"Listen to that," whispered Ollie. "What can it be?"

I sat up cautiously and listened. It was a strange, rattling,
unearthly sound, which I could not account for any better than
Ollie.

"It's a bear," he whispered. "I heard them make that noise at
the park back home."

I was puzzled, and concluded that it must be some wild
animal. I took down one of the guns, crept softly to the front
end of the wagon, raised the flap, and looked out. The wind was
still, and the night air met my face with a cool, damp feeling.
The moon had just risen and the lake was like silver. I could see
the horses lying asleep like dark mounds. But the mysterious
noise kept up, and even grew louder. I grasped the gun firmly,
and let myself cautiously out of the front end of the wagon. Then
I climbed back in less softly and hung up the gun.

"Wh-what is it?" asked Ollie, in a faint whisper.

"It's your eloquent Uncle Jack snoring," I said. "He's one of
Grandpa Oldberry's sim'lar varmints."