"That's right," echoed the other, promptly. "Seems to me I must be
dreaming when I find myself suspecting Steve of such a nasty thing. But
wait up and see, Owen. If nothing happens I'll be surprised, likewise
mighty well pleased."

They accordingly lapsed into silence.

Minutes glided by. To both the boys they seemed to be shod with lead,
so slowly did the time pass.

When the fire burned low, as it did on several occasions, Max would crawl
out, manage to toss an armful of wood upon the red embers, and immediately
seek his hiding place again.

One, two hours had gone, and so far nothing out of the common had come to
pass.

Owen found himself getting somewhat sleepy, and in various ways he fought
against the drowsy sensation.

"That's an owl, I reckon, ain't it, Max?" he whispered when certain queer
sounds floated to their ears out of the depths of the forest.

"Of course," replied the other, in the same cautious tone, which could not
have been heard ten feet away.

"And those are tree frogs croaking close by?" continued Owen, who knew all
about these things from reading; while his cousin did the same through
practical experience.