"Maybe he has lost his way," remarked Fenn, when it began to get dusk,
and there was no sign of the missing boy.
"That's so," admitted Bart, more quickly than Fenn had supposed he would.
"We'll take our guns and fire a few shots to give him the right direction
toward camp. Come on."
Ned and Fenn got their weapons in a hurry. To do something was much
better than to sit still and wait for something to happen. They put
some logs on the campfire, more for cheerfulness than because it was
cool, though it was a bit chilly in the woods after dark. Then they
moved off from the tent, each one in a different direction, and began
firing their guns. They stood, as it were, on the three points of a
triangle, so that if Frank heard the shooting and came toward either
angle he would strike camp.
But after half an hour of firing, at five-minute intervals, Bart
suggested they wait a bit before shooting any more. It was now
quite dark.
"If he's within a mile or two he's heard the guns," Bart said, "and
he can find his way here easily enough. If he was so far off he
couldn't hear them, we'd better wait until he wanders nearer before
we fire any more.
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