“I’m scareder than you are,” confessed Bub, with a painful catch in his voice.
“Stop chattering and save yer wind fer running,” commanded Abner, suddenly turning into some spruce and darting away at right angles.
For several minutes the three made good time, as the spruce was a portion of a mixed growth, one of those isolated islands of trees that had never known the blow of an axe. Despite the semi-darkness the fugitives could proceed at full speed, the aisles stretching roomy and clear before them. It had one drawback, however; it led towards the northern shoulder of Mt. Jim, and Abner did not care to be penned up against the mountain. Accordingly he soon turned again into the more tangled growth, where if the path was rougher and the pace slower it still allowed of progress in the right direction. If it had been any but Big Nick the veteran cruiser would have lost him long before this. But Nick, like Noisy Charlie, was not to be deceived by the ordinary deceptions of a woodsman and hounded his prey most skillfully.
“Can’t we stop and hide somewhere?” panted Stanley, his heart drumming painfully against his ribs.
