The canoe came nearer to the island with every stroke of the oars,
and presently one of Don's hounds started to his feet, snuffed the
air eagerly for a moment and uttered a deep-toned bay. Godfrey ducked
his head on the instant and crawled swiftly away from the sycamore on
his hands and knees. He was careful to keep the tree between himself
and those in the boat until he reached the cane, and then he arose to
his feet and worked his way toward his camp with all possible haste.
"Them two oneasy chaps has come back agin, just as I thought they
would," said he to himself, "and our Dave's with 'em. Don's got his
rifle now and his dogs, too, so't thar ain't no use tryin' to scare
him this time. I must hunt a new hidin'-place now."
Godfrey stopped in his camp just long enough to seize his rifle and
ammunition; after which he plunged into the cane again and ran toward
the head of the island. The muddy beach was thickly covered with
drift-wood, and behind a convenient pile of branches and logs Godfrey
crouched down and waited to see what was going to happen.
The actions of Don's hounds made the young hunters almost as nervous
as they made Godfrey Evans. David stopped tugging at the oars and
looked over his shoulder; Bert caught up his father's double-barrel
and hastily loaded it with two cartridges containing buckshot; while
Don, after bringing the canoe broadside to the island, dropped the
paddle with which he was steering, and picked up his rifle.
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