"Eagle-eye," he called softly.
There was no response, so the Professor, gripping his gun resolutely,
crept along toward the opposite side of the camp where the noise had
seemed to come from. So quietly had he moved that he made scarcely a
sound, until suddenly there came a commotion that more than made up
for the noise he had so successfully avoided before.
Stacy Brown, with his usual forgetfulness, had left his saddle in the
middle of the camp. The Professor caught his toe on the obstruction,
measuring his length on the ground instantly, where he floundered
about for a few seconds.
"Instead of discovering the other fellow, I think I am discovering
myself," he growled, scrambling to his feet, gingerly rubbing a knee.
Now the Professor walked with a distinct limp, while his bare feet
seemed to pick up every sharp pebble in camp, all of which added to
his discomfort.
"I'd make a nice sort of scout," he muttered. "Everybody within a
mile of me would know I was coming even before I got started, I
guess--"
The Professor suddenly cut short his words, and crouched down close to
the ground. He thought he heard something ahead and a little to the
right of him.
"Who's there?" he demanded.
No answer being made to his inquiry, he gripped his gun more firmly
and crawled cautiously toward the spot where he thought he had heard
some one moving.
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