The next night, after the evening meal, they sat in the wagon until late, discussing their future course. It was now fully nine months since they left home. The thought that their parents and friends would consider them lost was the hardest thing to bear. Did the boys ever get homesick? I need not suggest such an idea to make it more real than it was to them. With beautiful home surroundings, loving parents and brothers and sisters, absence, uncertainty; the fear that they would never again be able to return; danger all about them; the belief that perils still awaited them, which fears were now, in all probability, to be realized, all these things did not tend to produce a pleasant perspective to the mind.

But the Professor was a philosopher. He knew that the human mind craved activity. If it could not be exercised in a useful direction it would invariably spend its energies in dangerous channels. He knew this to be particularly true of young people.

Boys are naturally inquisitive. Their minds are active, like their bodies. They must have exercise; why not direct it into paths of usefulness, where their accomplishments could be seen and understood by the boys themselves.

That thought is the parent of the manual training system, where the education imparted comes through the joint exercise of brain and muscle.

Boys resent all work which comes to them under the guise of play; and all play which is labeled "work." But when there is a need for a thing, and the inquisitive nature of the boy, or his mental side, starts an inquiry, the manual, or the muscular part of him, is stimulated to the production of the article needed to fill that want.

The Professor did not force any information upon the boys, as will be noticed. It was his constant aim to let inquiry and performance come from them.

Could anything have been more stimulating or encouraging than the building of the water wheel, the sawmill, or the wagon? See what enjoyment and profit they derived from it. Thus far they had not given their time and the great enthusiasm to their various enterprises because of the money returns. Do you think it would have made their labors lighter, or the knowledge of their success any sweeter if they had been paid for their work?

The "Baby" went to sleep early, as was his custom now, and the boys and the Professor sat up later that night than usual, talking over their condition, and the situation as it appeared to them. The day had been exceedingly warm, following the rains.

Harry, who was seated facing the river, suddenly sprang up and excitedly grasped the Professor's arm, as he pointed across the river: "Look at that light!"

There, plainly in the distance, was a light, not stationary, but flickering, and, apparently, moving slightly to and fro.

"It seems as though it is at the edge of the woods," remarked George.

The distance was fully a half mile away.

"It can't be possible that people are over there," said Harry, not so much in a tone of inquiry as of surprise. "How far do you think it is from here?"

"Probably one-half mile, or more. We might be able to learn something if we should fire a gun," was the Professor's reply.

The boys were naturally astonished at the boldness of this remark. Other lights now appeared, some dim, others brighter. The firing of a gun seemed to them a most hazardous thing to do, but no doubt the Professor had a reason for making the suggestion.

It was quite a time before either of the boys responded to this proposal. In their minds it was a daring enterprise.

"If we should fire a gun the noise would likely startle them, and the first impulse of the savages would be to extinguish the lights."

George, who had the spirit of adventure more strikingly developed than Harry, was the first to concur.

"I am going to try it at any rate; we might just as well know what we have to face now, as later on."

"So you are really going to shoot?" said the Professor.

"If you so urge it, yes."

"Then let me suggest what to do. All savages have a keen sense of direction. It is one of their chief accomplishments. You and Harry go back, up the river, a quarter of a mile, or so, and take with you one of our coverings. Then shoot behind the blanket, so the flash will not be seen, and I will remain here and watch the effect."

There was no delay in their preparations. Within fifteen minutes the shot rang out, and almost immediately thereafter every light had disappeared. The boys were also keen enough to note the extinguished lights, and returned to the Professor in a hurry.

"The disappearance of the lights is not conclusive evidence that human beings were there. It might have been a mere coincidence."

"Coincidence! What do you mean by that?"

"Did it not occur to you that the lights might be natural phenomena?"

"Of what?"

"Of phosph.o.r.escence."

"Do you mean 'will-o'-the-wisp'?"

"It is sometimes called by that name. It is caused by decaying vegetable matter, and exhibits itself in the form of gases of phosphorus, which appears to burn, but does not, like the vapor which is produced by rubbing certain matches in the dark."

"But how do you account for the disappearance after we shot?"

"I thought they might have disappeared naturally, after you fired, and, therefore, said it might have been a mere coincidence."

This explanation was not a satisfying one for the boys, and the Professor did not place much faith in it, for the following reasons:

"I believe it is our duty now to keep watches during the night, which we can do by turns, so that the sentinel will quietly awaken the next one in his turn, or both in the event of any unusual happening; and furthermore, we should make an early start in the morning."

George was the first watch, and, by agreement, Harry was to be the next, in two hours, for the second period. Before that time pa.s.sed Baby was very restless, and George tried to soothe him; but before long he began crying. A l.u.s.ty orang, however small, in a still night, makes an awfully loud noise. The boys never heard anything as loud and as frightful as that cry appeared to them.

All were awake, of course, but the Baby refused to be quieted for fully a quarter of an hour.

"Don't you think Baby's cries will direct the savages to us?"

"It is not at all likely. The savages have no doubt heard the cries many times. It is your imagination which is playing you tricks. Do you suppose the savages know we are here and have a captive orang?"

During the rest of the night they took sleep in s.n.a.t.c.hes, and morning was long in coming. Harry had busied himself in getting a hasty breakfast while the others slept, and Baby was up leaping around nervously, and springing from branch to branch on the adjacent trees.

Having finished breakfast, the yaks were yoked, and before the sun was visible they were on their way to the north, as fast as the yaks could travel.

The whole camp partook of watchfulness now. Every hour and every mile they scanned the landscape, and, for further precaution, kept away from close proximity to the river bed. That was not a safe route, as enemies on the other side of the river would have an un.o.bstructed view, whereas by traveling inland, but within sight of the river, they could still view the banks of the stream.

"The scout who leads the way must go a certain distance, then make observations in all quarters. He must take particular note of objects which afford places of concealment, and the eye must be alert enough to observe every undue movement in limb or leaf. Sound is one of the things he must cultivate. A noise of any kind should be a.n.a.lyzed. A scout once told me that on one occasion during the war, his life was saved because he saw one limb of a tree move more than an adjoining one. At another time, in trailing through a forest, he saw a leaf on the ground, differing in color from those around it. In walking along he had noticed that some of the leaves he overturned had the same color, and inferred that as no wind had been blowing, and all the trees were bare, something must have turned the leaf, and subsequent events confirmed his reasonings."

The boys quickly learned their lessons. Each knew that every step forward meant an entrance to an unknown world.

CHAPTER III

THE BEAR FIGHT

During the day, following the night when the mysterious lights appeared in the lowland directly to the west and beyond the river, they pa.s.sed through several dense forests. George, who was in the lead at this time, emerged from the thickest wood into a rather open plain. He saw the river make a long circular sweep, and directly ahead noticed a coast line of steep hills which marked the sh.o.r.e of the river on the opposite side.

Harry and the Professor, who were behind with the team, had not yet reached the clearing. As George pa.s.sed into the open s.p.a.ce he saw an animal cross his path, and without waiting to inform the others, he shot. This alarmed Harry, who was out of the wagon without waiting for any word from the Professor. Immediately after George's shot was heard, they plainly heard another from the direction of the river ahead of them. The Professor, too, jumped from the wagon and followed Harry.

George fired a second time, and another shot came from the river. Harry turned and looked back at the Professor in amazement.

"What can that mean? Did you hear four shots?"

"Yes; run ahead, and find George."