"Do you mean Puss and that other fellow?" Frank asked, with a
laugh. "Oh, they're a mile or two off, and even if they could see the
biggest of fires I'd defy them to get half way here if they took the
whole night to cut their way through that mass of trailing vines and
brush. Don't bother your head about that crowd, Andy. I hope we're done
with them for good."
His reassuring words seemed to have considerable effect on his cousin,
who up to recently had himself been a most cheery fellow.
"Well," he said, "we've sure got a whole bunch of gratitude on tap for
the lucky way we dropped in here. Chances looked twenty to one it
couldn't be done. And I'd like to wager that no other air pilot could
have made the ripple so well."
"You're prejudiced, old fellow, because I'm one of the Bird boys,"
laughed Frank as he struck a match and applied it to the bunch of dead
grass he had gathered in the spot selected for their fire.
It was a dozen yards away from the aeroplane and about the same from the
nearest line of great bushy trees. Immediately the flame sprang up,
dispelling the darkness to some extent.
"Shucks! but that makes a big improvement and no mistake," said Andy,
stooping to drop some wood on the fire. "I always like to see what I'm
doing. And more than ever when I'm in a strange place. Hark! what was
that, do you suppose, Frank?"
A sound had come from the depths of the forest not unlike the wailing of
a babe.
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