I love hunter's lore. Perhaps it may work. Who knows?"

"Hello-o-o!" cried a voice seemingly close by. "Hello-o-o!"

"Where are you?" called Tom.

"This way," answered the voice, and a light flashed a little distance
off, revealing to them a man waving a lantern with one hand and
beckoning with the other. One and all dashed toward the light, feeling
that shelter was at hand.

"It must be a hunter," panted Tom, "and he has heard the Elf's Horn."

It was a hunter, and none other than old Jean. Their blind wandering had
taken them straight to the hunter's cabin.

"It is Mademoiselle Grace and her friends," cried the old man with
delight. "When the sky grow so dark, I take my lantern and go out to my
trap I have set this morning. Then I hear a strange whistle, many
times, and I think some one get lost and I cry 'hello,' and you answer
and I find mademoiselle and her friends."

"That was the Elf's Horn, Jean," replied Tom, "and you heard because you
are a hunter."

"I know not what monsieur mean by Elf Horn, but I hear whistle, anyhow,
and come," remarked the old man, smiling.

The others laughed.